


Taming the Rider

by YappiChick



Category: Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Original Character(s), POV First Person, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YappiChick/pseuds/YappiChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, spending the day in the town wasn’t part of the original deal, but if Blondie really is planning on returning to that tower, then the least I can do is give her a memorable birthday, right? Besides, what would we do all day? Have a staring contest with her frog?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taming the Rider

**Author's Note:**

>  A big, huge thank you to my f-list that patiently listened to me freak out and babble about this fic for months. Thank you to red_b_rackham for the awesome artwork! And of course, irony_rocks for running the challenge.

I want you guys to go and [look at the incredibly awesome, epic artwork](http://hetbigbang.weebly.com/red_b_rackham---taming-the-rider-artwork.html) that [](http://red-b-rackham.livejournal.com/profile)[**red_b_rackham**](http://red-b-rackham.livejournal.com/) made for me!  Not only did she make a couple of wallpapers incorporating some of the text, but she drew a sketch with one of the funniest parts in my fic.  (Or at least I think it's funny.)  Go, look and please, please, please leave feedback for her.

 

“Rise and shine, Eugene!”

I am tempted to swat away whoever has the audacity to wake me up so early, especially after the day I had yesterday. My mind is still muddled being half-conscious and all, but I distinctly remember nearly drowning and--even worse--having to sing in front of a group of drunk ruffians.

I flop my arm over my eyes, blocking the sun’s rays from disturbing my slumber. “Go away,” I tell my human alarm clock. 

“Eu-gene, it’s time to wake up!”

My sleepy brain slowly recalls who is the owner of the sing-songy voice. 

Blondie. 

The woman with the impossibly long, magic hair. I lift my arm slightly and crack one eye open, looking for that frog of hers before he gets any ideas of how to wake me up. To my relief, he is perched on Blondie’s shoulder with his tongue in his mouth where it belongs.

“Do you have any time what time it is?” I grumble, longing to return to my blissful slumber.

She bites her lip as she tries to figure out the answer.

“Never mind,” I say, rubbing my eyes. It figures she would wake up when the sun rose. I bet she probably sang a morning song with the birds too. I push myself up with my left hand to a sitting position and immediately notice something is different. I seem almost...lighter.

Last night’s question to Blondie floats into my mind.  _“Is there any chance that I’m gonna get super strength in my hand?”_  She had assured me that I wouldn’t get such a thing, but now I’m starting to think she might be wrong.

If my theory is correct and I do have superhuman strength in my hand then this is beyond stupendous. It’s  _unbelievable_. I allow myself to start thinking about what I could possibly steal with my new found strength; the marble statues in the royal museum immediately spring to mind.

This is going to be fun.

I must have a strange look on my face because Blondie starts looking at me intently. “Is everything ok, Eugene?” Her frog appraises me suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” I quickly assure her, practically jumping up in excitement. I dust off my pants and gesture towards the trees. “I’m just going to, um, take care of my business.”

Her cheeks color slightly and she takes a step back. “Oh! Of course. We’ll, um, just be over there.” She turns towards her reptilian companion. “Come on, Pascal.”

Without wasting a second, I dash for the closest grouping of trees. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Blondie and her frog are busy --she’s busy twirling her frying pan in her hand for some reason-- and glance at my left hand.

Well, it’s not glowing or anything. I frown. I distinctly remember Blondie’s hair lighting up when she sang that strange song that made her hair turn magical. Now I’m starting to wonder if I imagined the sensation when I first woke up. 

There’s only one way to know for sure. 

I approach a boulder and eye it critically. Nope, there is no way that anyone could pick that thing up (maybe except for that gargantuan thug at the Snuggly Duckling). I lean down, grip the giant rock and lift it up.

It’s as light as a feather.

Un-believable. Those trunks full of gold coins in the royal treasury won’t stand a chance against me, I think with a boastful grin. This is going to make thieving almost seem too easy...not that it was much of a challenge before. 

I spin the boulder around once for good measure before tossing it into the river. Part of me wants to see just how strong I have become and try to uproot one of these enormous trees, but I know Blondie will come looking for me pretty soon, so I nix the idea.

As I approach the campsite, I decide to keep my newly bestowed superhuman strength a secret for now. If I tell Blondie, she will probably make me promise to only use the powers for good or something else equally as philanthropic.

And that would be a terrible waste.

I step out from the trees and call out to my unlikely traveling companions. “We need to get going, Blondie. The kingdom isn’t that much further from here.” 

She claps her hands and practically skips to me. “When do you think we’ll get there?”

I look over the tops of the trees and squint. In the distance, I can see the top of the palace. “A couple of hours. Maybe a little more. It depends how far that river carried us yesterday.”

She lets out an squeal of excitement. She grabs my right wrist and gives me a tug. As we start down the road, I realize we should probably be more cautious about guards patrolling the area, but I figure with my brute strength, I’ll be able to toss them into the river. 

Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun.

The next two hours are spent walking and answering Blondie’s never-ending questions. Not that I mind too much. Not after the gift she has given me, even if she doesn’t know about it yet.

I’m busy admiring my hand again -- _can you blame me?_ \-- when my attention is pulled away from it by Blondie’s concerned voice. 

“Um, I think we have a problem, Eugene.”

I look away from my hand to see what is troubling Blondie. An enormous tree that has fallen due to the dam rupture is now blocking the path– _the only path_ –that leads to the bridge into kingdom. The trunk itself is a couple of yards high and the overgrowth around the road is so dense, we won’t be able to go through it. 

 _Nope,_  I think smugly,  _that tree is going to have to move out of our way_. I watch as she sends her hair sailing to one of the larger branches. It wraps itself around the bough, but the wood splinters as soon as she tries to give her hair a tug. She tries again and again, but is no closer to moving the tree.

With an annoyed sigh, she slumps to the ground, tears in her eyes. “Eugene, I’m not sure we can get past that.” Even her frog, who is now blue-- _literally_ \--seems to have given up hope. He leans into her shoulder and chirps sadly.

However, unlike Miss Negativity and her pet, I’m not worried about the tree at all. I hold up my hand to silence any other worries she may have and give it another admiring glance. I guess it’s time for me to let her in on my little secret. 

“I’ve got this covered, Blondie,” I assure her with a wink.

It could have been my imagination, but I swore she swooned slightly.

Before she can say anything, I pick up the gigantic tree with my left hand and toss it effortlessly into the overgrowth, several yards away. I turn back to her with my perfectly confident smile in place. “What did I tell you?”

“Eugene!” she squeals, jumping up and practically dancing in the middle of the road with excitement. “You  _do_  have super human strength in your hand!” 

I examine my hand closely, admiring it. “I do, don’t I?” 

To my surprise, she grabs my hand and looks at it closely. She gently runs her fingers over mine, as if trying to feel the power running through them. I tell myself I do not enjoy the feel of her soft fingers touching my calloused ones. 

Oh, who I am kidding? 

I am  _absolutely_  relishing in the fact that she is so interested in my hand. She has turned it over in her palm and seems content to give it the attention it duly deserves. Her soft fingers trace over the lines that run across my palm.

I’m plenty satisfied to stay here all day and let her idolize my hand, which will no doubt be the source of many legends, but a few seconds later, I have a sudden change of heart when her frog scurries down her arm and starts pressing his tiny green hand into my palm.

“Yes, yes,” I say, pulling my hand away roughly, “we’re all impressed with the hand that has the strength of a thousand men.”

I ignore the disappointment that passes over Blondie’s face and start walking down the path to the kingdom. That woman needs to teach her pet a little something about personal space, I decide as she approaches my side.

All of my ire is forgotten seconds later because I feel an unfamiliar sensation. 

Blondie is holding my hand.

To my horror, I let out a strangled squeak. Quickly, I recover and clear my throat. “Er, what do you think you are doing there, Blondie?” 

Was it me or did my voice crack in the middle of my sentence?

She raises an eyebrow at me, smiling slyly. “I’m making sure you don’t get yourself into trouble with your new superhuman strength. Since I’m the one who gave you the power, you’re my responsibility now.”

I’m pretty sure I could get into a lot more trouble with her holding my hand, if the awkward, but not exactly unpleasant, feeling running through me is any indication. “Your responsibility?” The question comes off much more needy than I like.

“Yup.”

Just as I’m about to ask her what, exactly, those responsibilities are, Mother Nature unexpectedly decides to distract me.

A big, fat drop of rain hits my cheek. 

Frowning, I look up in the sky. But, I realize with a wave of confusion, there are no clouds, just blue sky and the too bright sun. And yet, I feel another drop of water hit my face.

“Um, Blondie…” I start, slightly concerned. What if that magical hair of hers makes you delusional?

Suddenly I realize that I can’t feel her holding my hand anymore. Before I can finish the sentence, she starts disappearing before my eyes.

The world around me starts to fade.

This is a dream, I finally realize. Once I am pulled from my subconscious world of superhuman strength, I am left with no other option than to open my eyes.

And I am greeted by that palace horse that has been chasing me since the crown heist yesterday, soaking wet and snarling just inches above my face. It’s rather repulsive really.

I open my mouth and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Well, I hope you’re here to apologize.” And with that, I settle down to catch up on some more sleep.

Apparently, that was  _not_  the right thing to say because the next thing I know, that horse is dragging me across grass. With nothing to grab --and sadly having a lack of superhuman strength-- I am powerless to stop this horse from taking me from the campsite. Grabbing the grass proves fruitless as I see Blondie getting smaller in the distance.

I might have let out a rather unmanly yelp as he continues to pull me away from Blondie and her frog. “No no no! Put me down!” I beg.

I’m relieved to see Blondie wake instantly, jump up and rush to my aid. Hey, after the past twenty-four hours, I’ve gotten used to the idea of her coming to my rescue. 

“Stop it!” I shout to the horse.

He doesn’t listen. Seriously, the royal guard should consider retraining him to obey the commands given to him.

Blondie has just about reached me which is a good thing because I’m pretty sure I just swallowed a mouthful of grass. She grabs my wrists and starts pulling me in the opposite direction towards the burnt-out campfire.

Believe or not, she manages to stop that horse from going any farther. Who knew that she had that much upper body strength? Maybe that magical hair of hers does give people superhuman power, I think hopefully. 

I hold on to her wrists tightly as she gives me a tug. Now that she has managed to keep me from getting dragged into the palace prison, I am not loosening my grip until I am away from that unnaturally obsessive horse.

“Let. Me. Go,” I demand with no results. Maybe this horse doesn’t understand basic instruction. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t like me.

Either way, he’s not going to release me without a fight. I vaguely wonder if it’s possible to actually rip a person in half as he gives a particularly tough tug in his direction. Being a human rope in the contest of tug-of-war between the two of them is becoming rather painful, but there is absolutely no way I am letting go of Blondie. 

“Give me him,” she grits out. 

 _Yeah_ , I think,  _give me to her!_

“Stop stop stop!” I shout, hoping that somehow the horse starts listening to my pleas.

Not surprisingly, he doesn’t listen.

Blondie gives one more tug and I go sailing over her head with one bootless foot. That was rather impressive, I must admit. But there is no time for praise; I press myself against the trunk of the tree, not particularly caring that Flynn Rider would never let a woman stand between him and danger. Eugene Fitzherbert is perfectly content to let Blondie fight his wars for him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she repeats as she effectively blocks him from grabbing me again. “Easy boy. Easy.”

I’m still scrambling up the base of the tree, watching my boot flop helplessly in that beast’s mouth. Doesn’t he know that it took a lot of effort to steal that from the shoemaker?

“Easy boy,” she says again.

Amazingly, that horse actually seems to listen to her! He stops his lunging and stays in place, though he doesn’t look too happy about it.

I’m starting to wonder if that magical hair of hers allows her to speak to animals. Or at least talk them out of demented fits of rage.

Suddenly, I notice that frog of hers is sitting on top of her head. He gestures with his hands, communicating in some mysterious animal language. Why couldn’t he have jumped in the conversation  _before_  I ended up being nearly torn in two?

“That’s it,” she continues. “Now sit. Sit!”

That horse actually sits down.

“What?” I sputter as I question what kind of madness I signed up for in agreeing to take her to the kingdom. 

Blondie doesn’t even bother turning in my direction. That horse has her full, undivided attention. “Now, drop the boot,” she commands, pointing towards the ground. “Drop it.”

I’ll give you one guess to figure out what he does.

Blondie rewards obedience by cuddling him. Hey, she didn’t do anything like that to me when I agreed to take her to see the lanterns yesterday! Not that I wanted her to, I quickly tell myself. It’s just the principal of the thing. 

“Awww! You’re such a good boy,” she coos. Despite not having eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, I feel my stomach start to churn at the unadulterated sappiness. “Yes, you are. You all tired from chasing this bad man all over the place?”

Now wait just a second. He’s the good boy and I’m the bad man? Maybe this is the time to remind her that he nearly caused us to drown the day before and  _I’m_  the one escorting her to the kingdom. “Excuse me?”

She, however, is not interested in what I have to say. Neither is the horse, apparently. “Nobody appreciates you, do they? Do they?”

He shakes his head and huffs, leaning into her touch.

I cannot believe this. Why couldn’t this have been my dream and I wake up to have superhuman strength in my hand?

“Oh come on! He’s a bad horse,” I argue. Quite effectively, I might add.

Blondie is not convinced by my profound argument. “Oh, he’s nothing but a big sweetheart. Isn’t that right...” She looks at his name tag. “...Maximus?”

At least the target of my anger has a name, but seriously, how can Blondie really think that horse has any redeeming qualities about him? And, really, a sweetheart? That thing? “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Max gives me a glare.

It’s a good thing I’m not scared of him while Blondie is in between us. 

Blondie puts her hand on his head, calming him. “Look. Today is kind of the biggest day of my life and the thing is...”

She grabs my arm and pulls me up. I resist the urge to go running in the opposite direction of the horse. “...I need you to not get him arrested.”

I know I should be paying attention to the horse, but I realize that I’m focusing too much attention on the fact that Blondie’s hand feels just as soft as it had when she had held it in my dream. 

Max and that ridiculous scowl --I mean, what kind of horse scowls?-- pulls me from the thoughts I should not be thinking.

“Just for twenty-four hours and then you can chase each other to your heart’s content,” she offers.

I sigh. Obviously I’m going to have to be the bigger man, or horse, here. I stick out my hand for him to shake, forgetting how ridiculous the idea of shaking hands with a horse is.

Max is not impressed by my gesture of peace. He turns away with a huff.

That’s it! If he’s not even going to humor Blondie’s request than maybe I should show him what I really thought about his wake up call. 

Blondie, however, is still turning on the charm. “And it’s also my birthday. Just so you know.”

That broke him. With a snort and a sigh, he shakes my hand. 

Suddenly, Blondie’s words catch up with me. Birthday…Wait, what? Why didn’t she tell me that it was her birthday yesterday?

I pull myself up short. Why does it matter if today is her birthday? I’m only taking her to the kingdom so I can get my satchel back, I firmly remind myself.

I faintly hear the church bells ringing from the kingdom. Blondie pushes between us and starts to look for the sound’s origins. As I watch her walk away, that no-good horse hits me in the gut. 

I feel the air woosh out of my lungs as I fall to the earth. Oh, so that’s how he is going to play, is he? 

Part of me wants to tell Blondie what he did, but that would mean I would have to confess that I was too busy watching her  _and_  I wasn’t manly enough to remaining standing after the unexpected attack. 

Nope, I think with a wave of annoyance as I stand up gingerly, that horse won this round.

As I finally get air back into my lungs after that deranged horse punched–hoofed?–me, I watch Blondie look out and see the kingdom in all of its glory for the first time. If I wasn’t so concerned with the idea of becoming intimately acquainted with the noose that hangs in the middle of the castle prison, I might think the view wasn’t half-bad myself.

I find my boot on the ground and grab it before Max gets any ideas. I sit on the thick root and look at Blondie who is still taking in the view of Corona. “Quite a view, isn’t it?” I call as I put on my drool-covered boot back on my foot.

“Eugene,” she replies, turning back to me and beaming, “it’s amazing!”

A smile tugs on my lips. There is no question her enthusiasm is infectious. It might even be more effective than my smolder, I realize nervously. 

“We should probably get on our way.” I wave her forward down the road that leads to the kingdom. To my surprise, she hesitates.

“I have something I need to take care of before we go,” she explains, walking back to the extinguished campfire.

“Your frying pan?” I ask, raising an eyebrow “I really don’t think you’ll need that once you enter the kingdom gates.”

She crosses her arms and doesn’t say anything. Her frog gives me a pointed look; his message is clear:  _Back off, buddy._

“Fine,” I reply, raising my hands in defense. It probably has something to do with the upkeep of her magical hair. “You do whatever you need to.”

While she does whatever a person with magic hair does in secret, I decide to scope the area for any gung-ho soldiers that happened to follow Max. After a few seconds of searching, I decide that the main road is, thankfully, solider-free. I turn back in face my unlikely traveling companions and see that Blondie is patting that horse on his head. Again.

And, once again, he is nuzzling into her hand.

Have I mentioned how much I don’t like that horse?

“You ready or what, Blondie?” I hope my question comes off more disinterested, but I detect an edge to my voice that normally isn’t there.

Please, someone tell me I am not jealous of a horse.

“Yup.” She approaches my side with a grin on her face.

“You gonna tell me what you were doing over there with Max?” The horse huffs indignantly at my nickname for him which makes me want to use his abbreviated name even more than before.

“Nope.”

I tell myself that I don’t really care what she was doing and gesture to the main road. We’re still a little way from the bridge–I am still a wanted fugitive after all–so we need to hurry to see all the festivities the kingdom has to offer.

No, spending the day in the town wasn’t part of the original deal, but if Blondie really is planning on returning to that tower, then the least I can do is give her a memorable birthday, right?

I frown slightly. Flynn Rider isn’t suppose to have any emotional attachments, I remind myself belatedly. However, it’s too late now to change the plans. Besides, what would we do all day? Have a staring contest with her frog?

We walk in relative silence. Well, she’s still busy talking to her frog and that horse, but the only conversation I am having is with myself, reminding the exact reasons why I left the name Eugene Fitzherbert behind for a Flynn Rider way of life. 

A little voice in my head --the one I unkindly named Eugene-- whispers a suggestion to me.  _You want to spend the day with her and have a good time._

 _No_ , the internal Flynn quickly rushes in,  _I want my satchel back. End of story._

Ignorant of my internal struggle, Blondie gives me a sideways glance. “So…any superhuman strength in your hand?”

“No,” I admit, not being able to hide the disappointment. If I did have it, I would have thrown that horse in that river that nearly killed us yesterday, I think bitterly. “Though I was having the most incredible dream –”

Before I could brag about my awesome abilities, Blondie stops suddenly in the middle of the road and points ahead. “Is that a…bridge?” she gasps.

“Yup. The one way in and out of the kingdom.”

She turns to me, her green eyes wide and concerned. “Won’t there be guards in there looking for you on it?” she asks nervously.

“Well, that’s the nice thing, Blondie,” I say, causally draping my arm across her shoulders. Her frog looks at me with a disapproving glare and I drop my arm back to its original position. “They won’t be looking for me there because most criminals don’t actually go back to where they committed their latest crime.”

Her eyebrows push together, not unconvinced by my answer. “What inside the village? Aren’t there guards to protect the people from the wanted criminals?” 

Does she doubt the escaping skills on Flynn Rider? 

“Don’t worry,” I say smoothly, flashing her my most convincing smile. “I haven’t gotten caught yet.”

That seems to be all the assurance she needs. The worried look is gone. She takes a couple of step forward and shoots me an expectant glance. “So, you were having a dream...” she prompts.

I’ll be honest with you. I’m not used to the idea of people paying attention to what I say. So the fact that Blondie remembers everything I say is a stroke to my delicately fragile ego.

Still...while I am eager to share my dream with an enthusiastic audience, I find myself reconsidering my offer to reveal my subconscious adventure. Explaining the superhuman strength in my hand? Piece of cake. Explaining my desire for a certain person with impossibly long hair to hold my hand? That’s a completely different story.

“Don’t worry about it, Blondie.”

She looks disappointed while her frog gives an indifferent shrug. 

Before she can get too upset, we approach the edge of the bridge. With a wave, I encourage her forward. She sprints ahead. Three steps on the bridge is all it takes for her to look back with those wide, green eyes and mouth the word “wow”.

I feel myself smile again.

That horse and I follow behind her, but before I can catch up with her, I see an unwelcome sight in front of me: a wanted poster with that sorry attempt for my face on it. Really, you would think with a castle like that, the royal family would be able to find some kind of decent artist in the kingdom.

I rip the poster down quickly and crumple it in my hands. There is, of course, nowhere for me to throw away the evidence, except for…

Without thinking, I jam that paper in Max’s mouth.

Now  _that_  was satisfying.

He, however, has other plans. He spits the paper back onto my face. I rip it off my face, ready to tackle Max right here. At this point I don’t care how ridiculous I look fighting a palace horse on the bridge to the kingdom. A man’s ego can only take so much.

I get in one good shove for every three he gives me. Somehow, my leg ends up in his mouth and and I manage to grab his ear ear, holding that big head of his still. 

I’ve got my fist curled up, ready to let him know how I really feel about him. Before things get too intense, I hear a mouthful of squeaking for the top of Blondie’s head. I look guiltily at Pascal who is giving us a mouthful. A frog-size mouthful, but a mouthful nonetheless. 

I stop my attack on the horse grudgingly. I did agree to get along with him, didn’t I?

Reluctantly, on both sides, we release each other. I glare at Pascal who seems content that Max and I aren’t going to kill each other.

As soon as that frog turned around, I gave Max a shove for good measure.

Unfortunately for me, he gives me one back.

I could have gone back and forth with Max all day, but as soon as Blondie stepped through the entrance gate, I noticed a problem. A seventy-foot, blonde-colored problem.

Perhaps we should have thought about what we should do with Blondie’s hair before we crossed the bridge. People are stepping and nearly tripping over her long hair. I watch as she tries to move out of people’s way but it’s no use, people are still stumbling over it. Sprinting ahead, I start scooping up her hair as she does the same thing. I meet her with my arms full of hair and an annoyed look.

I know it’s not her fault that she can’t cut her hair, but this isn’t going to work. I need to come up with a plan or we might as well turn around and leave the kingdom right now. Knowing that Max would probably want nothing more than to chase me around the forest all day, I am eager to find a solution.

Fortunately, our three foot heroines are only ten feet away from us. The quartet of girls are sitting on the fountain, doing each other’s hair. Oh, do I have some hair for them. With a whistle and a hopeful look, I hold the hair up for the girls to see.

If their collective gasp is any indication, they are up to the task of trying to tame Blondie’s hair. They scramble from their position and run to Blondie. 

“Think you can handle this?” I ask, nodding to the pile of hair.

The four of them ogle the mass of hair in our hands. Their eyes--and smiles--widen as they study Blondie. I’m pretty sure she has just made four new best friends.

“Of course!” The oldest one says with a toothless grin. The other three giggle and nod. “But we need to find some place we can work.”

“About behind Chef Gusto’s bakery?” another girl suggests. “There is a lot of room there!”

“That’s perfect!” another enthuses. 

“Lead the way,” I reply with a grin.

The four of them grab Blondie’s hands, leaving me to pick up the pile of hair that falls to the ground. I swear I hear Max laughing from behind me, but by the time I turn to him with a scowl in place, there is no sign of mirth on his face. Pascal, however, seems quite amused at my predicament.

“Come on,” I mutter.

He ambles up Max’s leg and settles himself in the horse’s thick mane. They walk to the side of me as I do my best to keep up with Blondie and her new found hairdressers.

We follow them through the city streets while they giggle and chatter to themselves. “Your hair is so long!” one girl says, looking up at Blondie. “Doesn’t it get heavy?”

Blondie shakes her head. “No, but brushing it does take a while.”

“You should have your friend help you brush it!” the girl in the middle says, looking at my direction. “Then it won’t take so long!”

Blondie glances at me. I give her a “don’t even think about it” look. “I don’t think he likes brushing hair too much,” she finally replies.

“But brushing hair is so much fun!”

“I hope I have hair as long as her when I grow up,” the oldest girl proclaims.

“Me too!” the other three gush.

They continue weaving through the streets. We get a couple of strange looks, but no one says anything about the woman with the impossibly long hair and the man who has found himself tending to it. 

I make my way to Blondie’s side. She gives me a concerned look. “Eugene,” she whispers, not wanting her new friends to be able to hear her, “don’t you think braiding all of my hair is asking too much for them?”

I laugh at her concern. “Believe me, Blondie, you have made their year.”

She looks uncertain for a few seconds, but, honestly, she’s left with little choice. I’m certainly not going to braid her hair and I’m pretty sure her frog’s hands are not up to the task. She glances at the girls, then back at me. “If you say so.”

When we get to end of the street where the girls plan on making a make-shift beauty parlor, they let go off Blondie’s hand. They circle around her, looking at her hair.

“We’ll need a brush!”

“I already have one!” 

“Just kneel on the ground!”

“We’ll take care of the rest!”

Blondie complies with their request and kneels on the ground, sending me one final unsure look before turning away from me. The girls separate her hair into three equal pieces and set to the enormous task of brushing out her hair.

As they continue working through the tangles, I’m surprised that Blondie doesn’t have more knots (or branches or pebbles for that matter) in her mess of hair. Maybe she can sing that magical song of hers and her hair becomes untangled. Or maybe I’m thinking far too much about the subject of the blonde mass on top of her head.

Thirty minutes later, Blondie’s hair is completely brushed and the girls set to the take of braiding her hair. Contented giggles fill the air as the girls take turn jumping over her hair as they braid it.

Satisfied that everything is fine, I lean against the nearby wall and watch the girls perform their magic. Just as I think they are about to finish, the littlest girl looks at the others. “Do you know what else she needs?”

“Flowers!” The other three shout in unison.

“Don’t move! We’ll be right back!”

As they scamper away, Blondie turned to face me, smiling brightly. “Well, they didn’t seem to mind too much, did they?” She fingers the thick braid thoughtfully.

“I told you not to worry,” I call to her with a smug grin. 

Her lips curl up into a smile as the girls come back, their hands full of flowers. They start weaving them through Blondie’s hair as if they had been waiting for her to walk through the kingdom gates all of their lives.

I watch them for a minute before I notice a pair of figures approaching us. Royal Guards.

With a slightly panicked look, I tuck myself behind the wall and hope that they aren’t expecting for one of the most notorious thieves in the kingdom to be within the main gates. Max seems as though he’s about to let me know what he thinks about me and my criminal ways, but as I look ahead, I discover I don’t really care about anything except for what’s in front of me.

I swallow thickly as she swishes her braid back and forth before giving a spin and a “thank you” to the girls. An unfamiliar warmth spreads throughout me and I find myself smiling softly in Blondie’s direction.

She really is beautiful.

I could have gone on for a few more seconds studying my unexpected traveling companion, but instead, Max decides it’s a good time to lean in and give me a hard time. He waggles his eyebrows at me, calling me on my overt admiration of the woman in front of me.

Was I that obvious?

I push him away, more annoyed at myself for being so openly smitten than at him for calling me out on my behavior. Flynn Rider does not have long term commitments, I remind myself again. 

The girls run off in the direction they came, probably to tell the other kids in the kingdom about the hair that was like none other. Blondie takes a couple of steps towards the three of us.

“They did a great job, didn’t they?” She spins in front of me one more time for good measure.

“Well, at least we won’t have to worry about people tripping over your hair.” I could almost see a wave of disappointment that passed over her. Inwardly I sigh. Just because I compliment her doesn’t mean I’m going to end up married to her or anything. “And, yeah, they did. It looks good.”

The spark in her eye is back along with that unwelcome feeling of contentment that flows through me.  _Come on, Flynn, just one more day and that satchel will be yours._

I’m shocked to realize that doesn’t matter to me as much as it had yesterday.

A change of topic is most definitely in order, I suddenly decide. “So, you hungry?” I know I am. I barely grabbed a bite to eat with the boys before the crown heist yesterday. It’s not good to run from the law on a full stomach.

She nods emphatically, her frog copies her action. She looks around at all of the small vendors in the area. We could go inside Gusto’s bakery, but I have plans to come back later.

I lead her down the road to a small cart that is easy to pilfer from. Oh, that’s right. Blondie and Max would probably disapprove of that sort of behavior. I’m not so sure about Pascal though, he is looking rather hungry himself. I certainly have enough money to afford whatever Blondie could possibly want so I gesture in the direction of the half dozen carts. “Take your pick.”

She studies each vendor carefully. Some people have breads, others have fruits and vegetables. The large cart has several dozen sausages hanging from their display. My stomach rumbles at the sight, but with Blondie’s ability to talk to animals, I’m going to guess that she stays away from eating anything with meat in it.

Finally, her gaze settles on the fruit stand. I give the smoked meats one last lingering glance before turning back to Blondie. She already has several pieces of ripe fruit in her hand, plenty for us to eat. I reach in my small satchel and fetch out the money. Blondie watches the exchange with deep interest. I’m sure the concept of someone giving tiny, shiny circles for food seems more strange than having magical hair.

Purchases in hand, we walk to an abandoned part of the street. Blondie carefully sets the assortment of fruit on Max’s saddle. She picks off a grape for her frog and hold it out for him. His tongue flies out and captures the fruit. An apple is held out for Max to take, who gobbles it down so quickly, I’m afraid he’s taken half of Blondie’s hand with it. Fortunately, when she steps back, I see that she has all of her fingers.

She considers the remaining fruit, a plum and a pile of strawberries. “Which one do you want, Eugene?”

Neither of them seem particularly appealing, so I graciously say, “It’s your day, Blondie. You pick.” 

She considers her decision carefully. Nearly a minute passes and my stomach is starting to wonder why I thought it was a good decision to let her choose what to eat. Just as I’m about to renege on my offer, she picks up the plum. 

Without wasting for her to take a bite, I grab a couple of strawberries and pop them in my mouth. I’m contently chewing on them so I don’t pay attention to when Blondie decides to take a huge bite out of her plum.

Big mistake.

I don’t know what the farmer that grew that plum put in the soil, but the plum has to be the juiciest piece of fruit on the planet. The big drop of plum nectar lands in my eye. “Gah!” I cry, bringing my hand up to my eye.

Max starts laughing. Pascal is quick to join in. I give them a glare with my good eye. Only Blondie seems concerned with my well-being. 

“I am so sorry, Eugene!” She carefully pulls my hand away from my eye. It’s watering so all I see is a blurry blonde blob. “Are you alright?”

A tear slides down my face.

She gasps then frowns. “You’re crying!” Her hands hover around my head as if she’s unsure what she should do.

“No. My eye is watering.” There is a manly difference.

She looks around for something to help me out. I hold out a hand to stop her as I bring my other hand back up to my eye. “I’m fine, Blondie. Really.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “Just...eat your plum by Max.” I blink several times, relieved to feel that the stinging sensation is starting to fade away. 

Blondie moves away from me, still looking at me carefully. “I am so sorry, Eugene.”

I wave off her apology. At least this was a mistake, hitting me in the head with a frying pan--twice--wasn’t. 

And she still hasn’t apologized for that.

She finishes eating her plum carefully, covering any stray drop that might try to go flying from her mouth. Now that I am convinced that there is no lasting damage in my eye, I grab the remaining strawberries and gobble them down, making sure that I’m facing away from Blondie and her plum.

“So,” I say as I finish the last of my breakfast, “where do you want to go first?”

Her eyes sparkle at the idea that she could actually decide where to go. I realize that this was probably the first time she had ever been given that option in her life. 

“Can we see it all?”

The hope is so evident in her eyes that even if it was impossible to do, I would have figured out some way to show her everything the kingdom had to offer. I frown slightly, uneasy at her uncanny ability to make me do things--like reveal my real name and back story--that I would never think I’d ever do. 

I really need to stop looking in those big, green eyes of hers. They are going to get me into more trouble than my thieving habit.

But, I can’t help myself and look at them again. Instantly, I think about when we were sitting in front of that campfire last night and looking at them, all innocent and hopeful. My self-control had nearly broken right then and there. I had wanted to kiss her. 

No, I correct myself, I had  _really_  wanted to kiss her.

And that’s why I had to walk away.

I close my eyes and try to think of the satchel and the extremely valuable contents in it. I force myself to think of that castle I wanted so badly yesterday. To think about the future that I have always dreamed about since I was ten years old and read  _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider_  for the first time.

Instead, my treasonous thoughts show me Blondie, smiling that grin of hers with her eyebrow raised in amusement. I shove those thoughts out of my mind. Very forcibly.

Remember the satchel, Flynn.

The satchel.

The satchel.

“Eugene?”

Oops. My mental argument must have taken too long. Blondie --and that frog of hers-- is looking at me strangely. “The whole kingdom? You’ve got it,” I hear myself say, wondering why I thought it was such a good idea to spend the entire day with her.

As she flashes a wide smile at me, I realize it’s because I am a complete and utter masochist.

**********************

Now that our stomachs are full, it’s time to start that tour that Blondie requested. But before we head to the main street, I need to make sure Blondie understands what is going on. “When we see a guard...” I prompt.

She crosses her arms and looks at me pointedly. I’m pretty sure she’s wishing she had her frying pan with her right now. “We’ve been over this five times already, Eugene! I know what to do, I just want to see everything in the kingdom.”

OK, so I might have rehearsed the ‘how to escape from the royal guard’ routine one too many times. But really, can she –or anyone else for that matter– blame me for my somewhat apprehensive behavior? This is the first time that I’ve ever allowed myself in a position where I am completely and utterly vulnerable to capture.

And I’m not just talking about the guards either, if you know what I mean.

She, however, seems completely unaware of how close I am to shrugging off the Flynn Rider persona --just for the day, mind you -- and letting myself, the rarely-acknowledged Eugene, enjoy the day in the company of a beautiful woman. 

“All right, let’s go,” I say, wondering how long I’m going to be able to remain strong in the face of the perkiness that is Blondie.

Not long apparently.

As she grabs my wrist to pull me down the street, I admit defeat.

Flynn Rider is officially taking the day off.

I look at Max and before glancing back to the main part of the village. There is no way that a palace horse is going to go unnoticed while we walk through the kingdom. In fact, I think distastefully, I wouldn’t put it past him to start making a scene to catch the guards’ attention, promise or no.

He, however, seems content to wait at the main fountain in the town’s center. When I stare at him, dumb-founded, for a second too long, he huffs and looks meaningfully at Blondie, then me, then the town square. 

“Max wants to stay here and get a drink, don’t you, boy?” Blondie says, as if I hadn’t picked up on the horse’s not subtle gestures.

Max nods as if to say  _finally, a human who understands me!_

Hey, I’m not going to argue with his idea. “What about your frog?” I ask, looking around for her green companion.

I find him fast sleep on Max’s mane. In fact, I’m pretty sure I hear him snoring.

“He had a long day yesterday,” Blondie whispers. She lifts up a thick strand of Max’s mane and covers it over Pascal. “Please take care of him,” she charges Max.

He nods carefully, making sure not to send her frog flying in the air. 

With a cocky salute, I turn away from Max and we start our tour of the kingdom. The streets are filled with people who are busily moving back and forth between the vendors. I watch as Blondie tries to take everything in around her. She gasps and points and grins at all of the new sights. 

I’m having trouble keeping up with her, but I don’t think she notices. She grabs my hand –again!– and pulls me down the cobblestone road. We stop momentarily at yet another fruit stand. Blondie picks up two lemons, inspects them for a fraction of a second and hands them to me. I barely have time to catch them before she is pulling me in another direction.

I only hope the shop keeper was able to catch them as she whisked me away.

“Everything here is so wonderful here!” she coos. Yes, she actually coos. We stop in the middle of the intersection. She spins around, taking notice of the stores that are on the four corners.

“Is that…a shop that sells dresses?” she asks in amazement.

I look to where she is pointing. There is a large window with several of the aforementioned garments in it. 

What is it with women –even one that has been trapped in a tower her whole life– and clothes? 

I shrug. “It looks like it.”

“Can we go inside?”

She did not just use the word “we”, did she?

Her expectant look answers my unspoken question. I take several steps away from the dress shop. “Whoa there, Blondie. I don’t go dress shopping. You, however, are free to go in there.” 

“Eugene, I don’t even know what to do! You have to come with me!” she pleads. 

I shake my head stubbornly. “Not gonna do it.”

She crosses her arms. “You said you were going to be my guide.”

I gesture to the large wooden door with an impatient wave of my hand. “I’m guiding you to the entrance.” 

“That doesn’t count.” She reaches over and grabs my forearm, but my feet are firmly planted to the ground. She might have gotten me to agree to take her to see the lanterns, spill my previously unknown back story, and establish a truce with Max, but even I have my breaking point. 

“Look in there Blondie,” I say, shifting my gaze to the window. “Notice something? Like the lack of any other men in there?”

She turns her head and does as I request. As three women come into view, she reluctantly nods.

“Go. Have a good time,” I encourage. “I’ll just have a look around the stalls that don’t pertain to women’s clothing.”

She looks at me suspiciously for a second. As if I’ll leave her after everything we’ve been through. Or without my satchel, I add quickly. But, apparently, she can’t resist the siren call of the dresses because she grins. “You’ll be back?”

“I promise.” There’s no reason to tell her that, outside of her, my promises are good for nothing.

To my utter shock, she lunged herself at me and hugs me. She gives me a quick squeeze and leans close to my ear. “Thank you so much for taking me here, Eugene.” She smiles as I resist the urge to lean into her.

I don’t even have time to respond before she bounces away. I watch her step into the dress shop, a wide smile already in place, with an undoubtedly ridiculous grin on my face. From the window, she gives me a little wave.

Without thinking, I give her one back.

Suddenly, my thoughts do catch up with me. I’m acting like I’m smitten! Like a lovesick teenager! As I watch her pick an aqua dress from inside, I wonder if that is really such a bad thing.

I push away the thoughts as I turn my attention to the task at hand. I still have to fulfill my commitment to Blondie about the lanterns, don’t I?

Quickly, I make my way to the docks and find an unsuspecting fool that will help me with my plan I came up with last night. 

There. 

I see a middle-aged man standing at the end of the dock, trying to tie his boat with a thick rope to the piling. The boat is a good size, plenty of room for Blondie, her frog and me and not enough for Max. Perfect.

“Hey,” I say in my most Charming voice. “You gonna be using that later tonight?”

His eyes narrow slightly and I wonder if he’s seen the poorly drawn picture of me on a wanted poster. Finally, he shakes his head and I realize that I’m in no trouble of being discovered. 

“No,” he finally answers, giving the rope a good, solid tug. “The Misses and I are going to be celebrating the Lantern Ceremony at our home.” He straightens and looks me in the eye. “Why? You’re wanting to take the misses out on the water tonight?”

I cough and sputter at his question which he finds uproariously amusing for some reason. 

Rapunzel and me married?

Nope. 

Not going to happen.

Ever.

I just want to make sure she has a good enough view of the lanterns to insure the return of my satchel. That’s all.

I’m wondering if there is any part of me that is actually convinced by my internal assertion. 

Now is not the time for me to be thinking about dangerous things like my desire to spend time beyond today with Blondie. I recover quickly and give him what hopefully looks like a sheepish smile. “Well, she’s not my misses yet.” 

He comes over and clasps my shoulder briefly. “Ah, young love.” He laughs heartily. “Sure, you can use the boat tonight. Just bring it her back here when you’re done. Alright, son?”

I flinch at the offhanded nickname, but force a smile from my lips. “Sure thing.”

“In fact, I’ll even put a couple of lanterns in the boat for later. I wouldn’t want you two to miss out on that.” He winks at me and I wonder if somehow I found a human incarnation of cupid. 

“Um, sure. That sounds great.”

He watches me for a second. “Is this your first lantern ceremony with the lucky lady?”

I nod. “Yup. I’m trying to give her a night that she will never forget, you know?” After eighteen years, I imagine her expectations are pretty high. I’ll take anything that can help to the cause of giving her a memorable birthday. 

Suddenly, I’m distracted by Blondie, who is apparently done dress shopping. She sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the villagers, looking confused and amazed as she is trying to find me in the crowd of people.

“That your girl?”

She is for the next twenty-four hours, so I nod. “I should really get back to her,” I say, not wanting her to know the plans for the evening. 

He nodded knowingly. “The boat will be here for you later.” He tilts his head to the side, giving me one final look. “What’s your name anyway?”

“Eugene.” 

I’m several yards away from him before I realize that I had just answered him with a name I haven’t used in over a decade. It’s for the best, I decide, before I can read into my answer too much. Saying Flynn Rider would have surely created a problem.

I walk briskly up the road, not wanting Blondie to see which direction I came from. I duck behind a fruit stall and wait for her to pass me. “So,” I start, popping out from behind her, “did you find anything you liked?”

“Oh Eugene!” She gasps, grabbing my hand. “They had all different colors and fabrics! Mother has never brought home–” She stops abruptly and frowns. 

Obviously the mother is still a sore spot with her. 

“Did you find one you liked?” I ask, though I really could care less. I just don’t want to see her break down and start crying in the middle of the road with everyone around us. 

“Oh yes! I asked the nice lady if I could take one with me, but...” she trails off before facing me with her eyebrow raised. “Eugene, what’s money?”

“The source of all happiness,” I answer without thinking.

She processes my reply for a few seconds, but her confusion is pretty clear.

“Money lets you buy things. Everything has a price,” I clarify, gesturing to all the stalls around us. “If you don’t have money, then you don’t have anything.”

She steps so close to me that her arm brushes against mine with each step we take. “So, you steal money?” she whispers.

I balk at the idea. I may be a thief, but I’m a hard working one. I earn my money by locating lucrative buyers the hard to find items that they alone can’t find. In fact, I’m not so much a thief as I am a delivery service. 

“No, I don’t steal money.”

Before she can ask me about the finer points of thieving, I guide Blondie through the people that are still crowding the streets and lead her to the youngest merchant on the block. He cocks a grin at me and tips his hat in Blondie’s direction.

“Morning, sir. Morning, ma’am,” the little tyke greets. 

Blondie kneels down to be eye level with him. “Those flags are beautiful! I love the colors!” she gushes as she traces the outline of the sun with her finger.

The kid smiles bashfully back at her and blushes. No male, despite age or thugness, can resist the charms of Blondie, it seems. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Did you make them yourself?” she asks, dropping her hand to her knee.

He nods proudly. “Me and my friends did. They’re for the festival today.”

I smile, knowing exactly who his other friends are. Making little flags in celebration of the Lost Princess’ birthday had been a tradition of the orphanage since I was ten years old. It was always our most profitable fundraiser of the year.

“You and your friends did a wonderful job,” she says sincerely, standing up. She turns to walk away to the next vendor.

I, however, am not done shopping.

“I’ll take one for my friend here,” I tell him quietly.

He grins widely. “Yes, sir.” He reaches around and pulls out a flag while I rummage in a pocket for a gold coin that would easily pay for the entire batch of flags he is carrying.

I drop the coin in his hand as he gives me the flag. I reach out to tap him as he tips his hat. I don’t envy the life this kid is living and hope that he is taken home by a family that will raise him and love him the way any kid deserves. But, today as with every Lantern Festival, all kids get to enjoy themselves and have fun.

“I’ve got something for you, Blondie,” I say as I stand up and hold out the flag for Blondie who grabs it with another wide smile. She holds it up, making it seem as if it is hanging with the banners in the kingdom. My hand somehow finds its place on the small of her back and I lean over her shoulder.

I just want to see the view as she sees it. It has nothing to do with the fact her happiness does wonders to me.

Absolutely nothing.

“Is this for me?” she whispers as we walk away.

“Well, I figure since it is your birthday, you deserve some kind of present.” I cross my arms, feigning annoyance. “You didn’t mention it was your birthday to me yesterday.”

She, however, is unfazed by my false ire. “I didn’t think there was a good time to tell you. So much happened. Besides,” she adds softly, “I didn’t think you would care much if I had told you yesterday.” 

She’s right, I admit. It wasn’t until our time at the campfire and her unexpected declaration -- _”For the record, I like Eugene Fitzherbert much better than Flynn Rider.”_ \-- that I started allowing myself to care about the amazing woman, despite the fact that I really don’t want to deal with the ramifications of that right now.

“Well, I care now.” I admit quietly. I wonder if my statement is as awkward for her to hear it as it was for me to say it.

Apparently not. She smiles softly, looking at the flag in her hand. “I know.” 

A crooked smile crosses my lips. Who would have ever thought that I would find someone who understood me when I hardly understand myself. And in a ninety foot tower, no less?

“Where are we going next?”

“You tell me, Blondie. It’s your birthday.”

**************************

Several hours later, we have seen the majority of the kingdom. 

We find Max and Pascal at the large fountain where we left them earlier. If the look on her frog’s face is any indication, we just saved him from dying of boredom. He scurries down Max’s back and up Blondie’s arm without waiting for her to stop walking.

“Oh Pascal!” she sighs dreamily. “Everything here is so wonderful. They had a dress shop with the most beautiful dresses. They even had one with lace and...”

I start to tune out Blondie’s recount of everything that had happened and focus on more pressing things. Like food. Keeping up with her enthusiasm burns off nearly as many calories as running from the royal guard. I spot a vendor halfway down the block and start walking towards it.

Only to be stopped by Max. 

I hold my hands up innocently. “Hey, I’m just getting us something to eat.” To emphasize my point, I start rubbing my hand over my stomach. I somehow resist the urge to pantomime the action of putting imaginary food in my mouth.

He narrows his eyes. Apparently, he still doesn’t trust me.

Horses, go figure.

Maybe some bribery is in order. “I’ll even get something for you...About a nice, shiny apple?” 

Horses like apples, right? He seemed to like the one Blondie gave him this morning.

He neighs excitedly and moves out of my way. So, the way to a horse’s heart is through his stomach. I could have used that information yesterday. I would have packed a few apples before the crown heist.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Blondie who is holding up the flag for her frog to see.

I walk up to the vendor who is looking at me suspiciously. This can’t be good. I pick up a loaf of bread and several apples, doing my best to look nonchalant. I stand for a moment, waiting for him to give me a price for what I have in my hands, but he remains silent.

“Does this mean it’s free?”

He looks back to Max who is watching me very carefully. “Is that a palace horse?”

I knew that persistent horse was going to get us into trouble. Soon this guy will be asking where his rider is and that is a topic I would rather avoid, thank you very much. Feigning ignorance is definitely in order.

“He’s with her,” I say, nodding my head towards Blondie who has apparently calls Max. OK, so it’s not the most noble thing to do, but I am no Prince Charming.

“Is she in some kind of trouble? A horse with no rider is an unusual sight around here,” he says as he shifts his gaze back to me. 

I inwardly laugh at the implication. Here I am, the most wanted thief in the kingdom and he’s worried about Blondie. I shake my head. “Nope, he just likes her.” A little too much, I silently add, as I watch him nuzzle into her hand again.

He crosses his arms, not pleased with my answer. 

I turn back to Blondie who finally manages to tear her interest away from that horse and gives a little wave in my direction. Reluctantly, I give her one back. When I look back at Mr. Grumpy, I notice how his expression has softened.

Get used to it, buddy. No one is impervious to Blondie’s charm.

“Three duits,” he finally says, holding out his hand.

I drop the coins in his hand and make my way back to Blondie and her animal friends. We need to go somewhere a little more discrete, I decide. Surely one shopkeeper won’t be the only one who will notice Max’s presence.

“Come on,” I say as I start walking to the outskirts of town.

“Where are we going?” she inquires, running next to me.

“Well,” I shrug, “I assume you’re never had a meal with an ocean view before.”

She claps her hands together and looks at Pascal. “This is going to be so much fun!”

We cut through the back roads of the town. The festivities and people are virtually nonexistent here. Finally, we approach the end of the road and the tall sea wall. I’ve hidden here enough to know that the guards rarely patrol this remote area of the kingdom. 

With a rather impressive toss, I throw the food on the top of the ledge before I hoist myself to the top and admire the view. It takes me a few seconds --and a nudge in my side from her frog-- to notice that Blondie isn’t next to me. I turn around and see her unsuccessfully trying to pull herself up.

A gentleman would have helped her up, but Flynn Rider could never be considered such a thing. Eugene, however...

I watch her bit her lip for a second before she looks at Pascal who is giving me an evil glare with one eye and watching his friend with another. “I could unbraid my hair...” she mutters.

I frown, not liking that idea at all.

 _You would have to rebraid it all,_  Flynn reminds me.

 _And you’d miss looking at it,_  Eugene quietly says.

I silence my split personalities and hold out my hand. She grabs it without hesitation and is soon sitting next to me, her leg pressed up against mine.

Maybe I should have let her stay down there, I belatedly think.

“Eugene!” she gasps and grabs my arm briefly. She lets go and points at all the ships sailing in the waters ahead of us. “Look at all of the boats!”

I hide my smile at her enthusiasm by tossing a couple of apples to Max.

“The view is great,” I agree, looking at Blondie out of the corner of my eye.

Whoa.

Stop right there, Rider.

Do  _not_  go there.

“So,” I say, a little too desperate for my liking, “what’s your frog’s background?”

“Who? Pascal?” she asks, feeding him a chunk of bread. He doesn’t seem to enjoy the taste of the dry loaf, but I’m fresh out of insects or whatever it is that frogs eat.

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s a chameleon, Eugene,” she reminds me. As if to prove her point, he starts changing into a rainbow of colors.

“OK, fine, chameleon. I get it.” He looks positively smug at my concession.

She finishes chewing on her piece of bread before continuing. “Pascal followed Mother home when she went on one of her trips to the flat lands and he’s been with me ever since.” She smiles at her friend who gives her a thumb’s up.

“And he’s your first...pet?”

She nods and pops another piece of bread into her mouth. “One time Mother found him in my room and she was upset and told me to get rid of him. She said that he was dangerous.” She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “But I knew she was wrong. Pascal wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

At the mention of the insect, Pascal starts licking his lips. 

“Oh! Well, maybe a fly, but you know what I mean,” she quickly amends. “After that, we decided it was best for Pascal to remain hidden from Mother.”

Pascal makes a face at the mention of her mom. I guess he’s not a big fan of the woman who deemed it necessary to keep Blondie locked away all those years. I can’t say I’m particularly fond of her either.

“Oh, Pascal, she’s not so bad,” she quietly admonishes. “She’s just very...protective.”

Pascal rolls his eyes before starting to chirp animatedly. Now, I don’t speak Chameleon or any other Reptilian dialect, but even  _I_  know what he has to say about that.

She sighs softly. “Maybe you’re right, Pascal. She has been wrong about the outside world so far.” It seems as though she’s about to say something else, but at the last moment, she changes her mind. She draws in a deep breath and straightens her back, much like she did last night at the campfire, and I know that part of the conversation is over. 

She seems content to watch the boats make their way to the port. “It’s so...amazing,” she breathes. “I never imagined anything like this.”

I scoot a little closer to her --just to see from her vantage point, mind you-- when she unexpectedly leans her head against my shoulder.

 _What is she doing?!_

Lunch is over, I suddenly decide. Without waiting, I slide down the wall face a little too quickly. My pants snag on the uneven rocks, but thankfully don’t tear. Blondie nearly falls backwards, but she catches herself in time. She looks at me, confused. “Eugene?”

Pascal gives me a nasty look, but I really don’t care. Fleeing is my only option until Blondie learns about the important concept of personal space.

She dismounts the sea wall with much more grace than I did and brushes off the breadcrumbs from her dress. “Did I...Did I do something wrong?”

Great, now I’m starting to feel guilty. I haven’t felt that emotion in, well, actually, I’m not sure I have actually felt that emotion before. He give her a small smile. “No, I just thought we should get going. There’s still a lot to do before the lanterns come out.”

Fortunately, she’s either to kind or naive (or a combination of both) to corner me on my flimsy excuse for bolting on her. She allows Pascal to climb on her hand and gently places him on Max’s back. “We’ll be back in a while, alright?”

The chameleon nods before pining me with a glare. He points at Blondie with his tail, chirps something unintelligible, then crosses his arms.

 _Don’t mess with Blondie._

I got the message, Buddy.

While Max and Pascal stay back away from inquisitive eyes, Blondie and I make our way back to the town center. The stores are busy now and the sorry people who actually have to work today are diligently working on their trade. We peak through the blacksmith’s window and watch the burly man beat a piece of steel into submission.

“He’s so strong!” Blondie gasps as his hammer swings down to hit the glowing steel.

I make a subtle attempt to bring my rather manly bicep into her view by placing my hand upon the glass. I give her my best Flynn Rider look and ask nonchalantly, “Is he?” I flex slightly.

Before she can get distracted by my undeniable strength, Mr. Muscles starts pounding on the window. “No touching the glass!” he bellows.

Well, there goes  _that_  idea. I grudgingly remove my arm from its position and move away from the “strong” man’s shop. 

We meander through the streets, weaving between all the hustle and bustle of the town during midday. The celebration is in full-swing now; vendors are hawking their products at everyone walking by their stands, people are carrying around miniature versions of the kingdom’s flag, and the topic of conversation around us is whether or not this will be the year when the lost princess returns.

I’m starting to get concerned about Blondie. It has been nearly five minutes and I haven’t heard her spout any “oohs” and “aahs” at the sights around us. I wish her frog was here; maybe he’d be able to give me some kind of clue as to what she’s thinking.

Suddenly, she gives me a sideways glance before stopping completely in the middle of the street. She raises her gaze to me and declares, “I’m not going back. To Mother.”

 _She’s not?_

“You’re not?”

She shakes her head defiantly and crosses her arms. “No. I’m not.”

On one hand, I’m proud of Blondie. A person like her shouldn’t be locked away in a tower. On the other hand, I wonder how I’m going to get my satchel back. 

What can I say? Flynn Rider habits die hard. 

“What are you going to do then?” I ask, half-hoping and half-dreading that her plans include me.

She shrugs as we turn a corner. Apparently, the excitement of the morning has slowed down her pace. She seems content to read every sign we pass and look through each window we walk by. “I could live here, couldn’t I? I know how to paint and play guitar and bake and sew–”

Frowning, I realize she  _could_  move here. The town was friendly and kind, much like Blondie herself. There would no doubt someone would take her in until she was able to support herself.

It would be good for her. It would be good for her frog.

Then why wasn’t I happy for her?

I must have my very un-Flynn-Rider look of panic on my face behind she gently places her other hand on my arm. “You could stay with us, Eugene. You could–”

“Sorry, Blondie,” I reply, pulling my arm away. “The castle gates is not the place for a wanted criminal to live.”

I watch her pretty –where did that word come from? –mouth turn downward for a second. Then, as quick as it came, the frown vanishes and is replaced with a wide grin. “I know! I could cook at The Snuggly Ducking! Then Hookhand could have time to practice playing the piano so he can live out his dream.” 

She looks at me hopefully. She actually thinks her plan is feasible. “You could stay there, couldn’t you? It’s not in the castle gates and the other ruffians would hide you if the royal guards did come looking for you.”

I shake my head. Didn’t she realize that Flynn Rider didn’t settle anywhere with anyone? “I don’t think it would work like that, Blondie. Besides, it doesn’t exactly fit into my gallivanting through the forest way of life,” I answer, desperate for a change of subjects. My voice is firm, but my resolve is weak. If Blondie asks me directly to stay with her, I would find some way to do it, I realize with a wave of panic.

I’m starting to realize there is something magical about Blondie and it has absolutely nothing to do with that hair of hers.

“Then, I could come with you on your adventures,” she offers. “I wouldn’t be a bother. In fact, I could help you! My hair seemed to be useful in escaping the guards yesterday.”

An unexpected surge of anger runs through me. Had that “mother” convinced her that the only value she had was in her hair? That without it she had no real value? Because that wasn’t farther from the truth.

Whoa, slow down there, Eugene, I tell myself as I feel my blood pressure rise. We’re getting awfully defensive about Blondie, aren’t we?

“Let’s talk about it later,” I suggest as I finally see a useful distraction at the end of the street. We make our way to where a dozen or so kids are drawing on the ground. 

Blondie puts a hand on my chest, preventing us from moving forward. “What are they using to draw?”

Now I might have been in a daze up in that tower of hers, but I didn’t miss all the drawings that covered practically every inch of the walls. But, apparently, she has never been introduced to anything outside of paint. “It’s call chalk. Rather messy if you ask me. Gets on her hands and arms--”

“Can you get me some?”

This is the first request she has specifically made for me to actually get her something. It is clear that whatever else she may be--reptile communication, horse negotiator, thief reformer--she is an artist at heart. I look for some kind of shop that sells supplies, but I come up with nothing. Hiding my disappointment (something which I didn’t want to acknowledge even to myself), I shrug. “You caught me on an off-day, Blondie. I’m fresh out of chalk.”

Just then, a little girl who had no doubt been listening to our exchange, walks up to Blondie and tugs on her hand. “I have some extra. Wanna draw with me?”

“Oh of course!” The two of them scamper several feet away. The child’s mother smiles at me. I return the gesture with some sort of odd mixture of a grimace and a grin. Feeling people’s kindness is something I am not accustomed to.

Blondie kneels next to the girl who is talking animatedly about her drawing which is some kind of rainbow bunny that she claims is her pet . Blondie tells her how Pascal can change his colors which delights the child to no end.

Seriously, this kingdom is made for Blondie. The townspeople’s kindness and friendliness permeates the air. Flynn Rider so does not belong here.

But, I admit with much reluctance, Eugene Fitzherbert  _could_  fit in. Even come to enjoy it here in Corona. 

I am considering --just considering, mind you-- the idea that somehow I would be able to join Blondie and her frog in their ideal life in the city when Blondie suddenly holds out the flag for me to grab. I take it from her, wondering what she has planned.

“Can you hold this out so I can see it as I draw?” she requests.

I do as she asks without any retort; I’m still not quite ready to abandon my un-Flynn-like daydream of domesticated bliss. 

As I hold the flag taut, I let my mind wander. We wouldn’t be able to live in the main city, of course. But there has to be a cabin in the forest that we can stay at. Blondie could travel into town to do whatever she wants.

Me?

I’ll probably have to babysit the frog.

I’m pretty sure Rapunzel could convince Maximus not to turn me into the authorities, especially if she bribes him with a steady supply of apples.

Before I can continue my daydream, a sick feeling seeps into my stomach as I realize what I just did.

I called her Rapunzel.

This is not good.

As if she has some sense tied to my well-being, she glances from her position and looks at me, concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, Blondie. Really.” I flash a Flynn Rider smile in for good measure.

She doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but she goes back to drawing. Almost immediately, I am distracted by her artistic skills. With broad strokes, she draws the outline of the sun. When I lift my gaze, I notice she has an attentive audience.

She, however, seems unaware of the attention she is receiving. Probably because she has never had that happen before, living in a tower and everything. She continues sketching the enormous shape, stopping every couple of minutes to make sure everything is in proportion. 

Once she is finished with the sun (which takes a while as my tired arms can attest to), she asks the little girl if she can borrow the purple chalks. Of course, in this kingdom of near-perfect people, the little girl doesn’t hesitate in giving Blondie nearly a half-dozen options for her to choose from.

I watch as Blondie’s gaze roams around. Within seconds, she finds what she is looking for. A couple who is sitting rather close to each other is kneeling by the fountain. As they lean it for a kiss, I turn back to Blondie. She blinks slowly, taking in their actions. 

I swear she casts a glance briefly in my direction.

Then, she starts drawing. 

I’m pretty sure she has some kind of magical ability to remember everything exactly the way it looks because when she finishes the drawing, it looks exactly like the lovebirds we saw earlier. Well, if they were purple, anyway.

She does this three more times: examines the crowd for inspiration, makes a mental picture and then draws it out for the kingdom to see. Her subjects are as varied as a the kingdom: a group of children are in one frame, a mother with a stroller dragging along a child in another, and an elderly couple looking in happy in love occupied yet another. 

She looks at a young family --a woman with her husband and their new little ones -- curiously. Her head cocks to the side and she just watches them. This is different than the other time she studies her subjects. She moves to stand next to me and stands on her toes, bringing her lips close to my ear.

I would like to say that I heard every word she said, but the only thing I managed to focus on was the feel of her warm breath tickling my ear.

“Eugene?”

“Er, sorry, Blondie,” I say, clearing my throat. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

“I asked why that man was with the mother and her children.”

“He probably got off work early to celebrate the festival with his family,” I answer.

“But who is he?”

Suddenly Blondie’s question makes sense to me. Her father must have died when she was young. “He is their father.”

She blinks.

“You know, like a mother, but just in male form.”

“Oh! A father!” Her eyes light up at the idea. Then she goes back to drawing.

She draws the family in detail and finds another one to sketch. Just when I think she’s done, Blondie surprises me by drawing this loopy, flowery sun shape that frames her entire creation. By now, her arms are entire covered in chalk, but I know she doesn’t mind. She makes one last final arch and pulls herself back so she can look at what she has created.

She stands up and does her best to push the hair out of her eyes without getting chalk on her face. I look at her masterpiece with a mixture of pride and admiration. 

It is amazing.

I raised my eyebrow slightly as she steps back towards me. The little flag that starting the whole thing is still in my hand.

“Well, Blondie, I know now who painted all those pictures in that tower,” I say.

She turns to me and smiles. “Do you like it?”

When she reached up to move her hair, she must have accidentally touched her face because there is a smear of purple on the side of her nose. I reach out and dust off the chalk from her face. “I think it’s great.”

She gives me a look that causes my heart to beat wildly. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that I am becoming quite smitten with Blondie. “Thank you.”

I clear my throat, suddenly uncomfortable with the intense look she is giving me. “We should, um, probably get you washed up,” I say, nodding towards her chalk-covered hands.

She looks at them, almost surprised at their appearance. “Of course!” Before we leave, she finds her three-foot friend and embraces her carefully. “Thank you so much!”

She straightens up and follows me as I look for somewhere where Blondie can clean her hands. Maybe Max would offer to help. The idea of his pristine white coat being tarnished with bright purple chalk amuses me to no end. 

Blondie picks up on my evil grin and gives me a suspicious look. “Eugene?”

I wave off her question as a woman approaches us. “Here, my dear.” She holds out a small piece cloth for Blondie to use. 

With a grateful smile and a sincere thanks, Blondie takes the small tea towel and attempts to clean her hands. 

“Your drawing is quite amazing,” the woman praises. 

Blondie blushes slightly. It seems as though her mother isn’t too heavy handed in the flattery department. She gives a sheepish shrug. “I just drew what I saw.” 

“You have a wonderful talent,” the woman assures her as Blondie hands back her rag. She looks at me. “Doesn’t she?”

Suddenly, both of them are looking at me. The stranger has an encouraging smile on her face and Rapunzel is giving me that big, hopeful look like she did at the campfire last night. Unlike then, I find myself with nowhere to escape, quite the embarrassment for a seasoned thief let me tell you. 

“You did an amazing job, Blondie. Really.”

Blondie’s entire face brightens at my complement. “Thank you, Eugene!” She flings her arms around me and I find myself encircling her without thinking. 

The woman gives me a knowing wink and walks away. I just wish I knew what she thought she knew. Right now, I’m feeling rather confused about the entire subject of Blondie myself. 

Blondie pulls away first --I am too dumbfounded by her open display of gratitude to do anything other than stand there with my moth agape-- and asks, “What are we going to do next?”

I pull my thoughts together. There will be time to think about just how good she felt later. Much later. I nod towards the area of the kingdom we went to in the morning. “Everyone deserves a special treat to eat on their birthday.”

She turns her head slightly in confusion, but she follows my lead as I walk down the road. “Is this place like the Snuggly Duckling?”

“This place is nothing like there, I promise.”

She surprises me by seeming to be almost disappointed at that revelation.

No, there were no ruffians or thugs at this place. Just mouth-watering pastries and coffee. Oh yeah, I could definitely handle a cup of java after the past twenty-four hours. Though the idea of Blondie having caffeine is enough to make me nervous. She seems to have enough energy for the entire village. Maybe I’ll introduce her to coffee another day.

We walk to the area where the little girls had braided her hair. Instead of going to the right as we had earlier, I steer her to the left. A large building with delicious smells is before us: Gusto’s Bakery. I gesture for her to walk inside the shop. 

She doesn’t even take two steps inside before spinning around with a stunned look on her face. Somehow I knew she would have a sweet tooth. “Eugene,” she whispers excitedly, “look at all of this!”

Dozens of pastries, cupcakes and pies are on the shelves behind the large counter where a plump man is working. I smile at her. “Everything here is good.” I raise my voice slightly. “Isn’t it, Gusto?”

He looks up from his work and scowls. Well, it’s nice to know that his feelings for me haven’t changed since I last saw him. “Flynn Rider.” His greeting is accompanied by a stern look. “I hear you’re in trouble with the guards again.” 

He doesn’t seem too impressed with the rumors that are circulating around Corona. That’s too bad really. Some of them are really quite entertaining. 

Before he starts telling me what he really thinks about me and my illegal activities, he notices Blondie standing there with her amazed look on her face. All traces of anger vanish from his face and he gives her a wide, friendly smile. “But, where are my manners? Welcome to Gusto’s Bakery, my dear. This man isn’t giving you any trouble, is he?”

I tense for a second, imagining Blondie in all of her wide-eyed innocence telling Gusto that “Eugene” is a perfect gentleman and she is perfectly safe in his company. 

I shudder at the thought.

My fear, however, is unwarranted.

“Who? Flynn?” Though it seems strange for her to use my alias, I relax as I realize that she’s willing to keep my fake reputation in place. She shakes her head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got a frying pan nearby to keep him in line.”

Though Gusto has no idea what she’s talking about, he seems amused that Flynn Rider has apparently found his match. He laughs heartily. “I like her already, Rider. What can I get the two of you?”

“I don’t know,” Blondie says, looking worried. “There are so many thing to choose from. Mother and I don’t have much in the--”

This is really not the place to be discussing her place of exile. “House,” I quickly interrupt.

Her eyes widen as she realizes her near-slip. “Oh, right! The house.” 

“About a couple of cupcakes?” I suggest. “Perfect for celebrating a birthday.”

She nods as Gusto brings out a tray of the sugary sweets. Cupcakes covered in blue, green, pink and white icing are presented before us. Blondie picks out a pink one for herself and I choose the cupcake with the vanilla frosting. 

“That will be twenty-two duits,” Gusto says after he comes back from replacing the tray.

I cough and sputter.  _Twenty-two duits?_  They should buy me the entire tray of cupcakes! “Did you say twenty-two duits?”

Gusto crosses his arms. He is absolutely serious. “That’s to make up for the muffins you stole from me the last time. Plus interest!”

“Oh come on!” I grumble. “I was hungry! You don’t want a poor kid to go hungry, do you?”

He is unmoved by my attempt to guilt him into changing his mind. “That might have worked when you were a lad, but you are a grown man now! Thieving is unacceptable.” He shoots a look at Blondie. “You don’t want your lady friend to get into trouble because of your unsavory habit, do you?”

I glower at him. That was low to pull Blondie into the conversation, even for him. I pull out the proper amount of coins. “Twenty-two duits.”

A smug, satisfied smile spreads over his lips. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Rider.” I always knew Gusto was a talented baker, I just never knew he made such a crafty businessman as well. 

Less than a minute later, our hands are full of cupcake goodness as Gusto reminds Blondie not to go far from her frying pan. 

As we walk outside to the high-back chairs and small tables, I glance back inside where Gusto is animatedly talking to his wife. Probably about Blondie and her unique method to “keep me in line” and the fact he pushed me to pay that ridiculous amount for two cupcakes.

I set down my cupcake on the table furthest from the window. I’m not planning on giving Gusto any more ammunition. 

“Is everyone here so nice?” she asks.

Is she kidding me? She thinks Gusto is nice. Well, I guess he was kind to her. “Sure, as long as you’re not a wanted criminal,” I respond dryly.

“Did you really steal from him?” she asks quietly. “He seems so friendly!”

I shrug, not really wanting to talk about it. “I was hungry.” The truth was, I wasn’t. It had just been a few days since I had the opportunity to...acquire something that wasn’t my own and the muffins called to me as I was evading Corona’s finest. But, I don’t think Blondie would appreciate what really happened.

“That’s terrible, Eugene! Why didn’t--”

To my shock and horror, two royal guards suddenly turn the corner. Without thinking, I grab Blondie and pull her under the table, hiding us behind the cloth. “What are you doing?” she hisses. 

“Unless you want to be watching the lanterns from a jail cell, don’t say a word! There are two guards that are coming this way,” I whisper.

Her eyes widen in horror at the thought. She clamps her hands over her mouth for good measure.

All right, Rider, how do you get out of this mess?

I can see the guards’ boots from the sliver of ground I can see from under the tablecloth. They are close. Too close. I subconsciously hold my breath as they take a step in our direction.

“If they find me, you need to run,” I instruct, my voice barely audible. “They won’t follow you.”

She shakes her head and removes her hand from her mouth. “I’m not leaving you, Eugene,” she whispers. Tears are starting to form in her eyes. 

I knew she was going to say that. “Listen, Blondie, you’re going to have to trust me. Go and find Max. He’ll be able to take you somewhere safe. I should be able to lose the guards.”

I hope. 

She swallows thickly as they guards take another step towards us. “I can’t,” she admits brokenly. “I can’t leave you.” She draws herself up slightly. “I won’t.”

The entire situation is quite endearing when I think about it: a wanted criminal urges the only person in the world who likes him for who he really is to flee from the law but she refuses to leave his side.

“All right,” I acquiesce. “If they find us, we’ll go back to the sea wall where we had lunch. We should be safe there.”

She nods, looking far more braver than I feel. 

Just as I am accepting my fate of making Blondie a fugitive, an unexpected savior speaks. 

Gusto.

“Alder! Hans! Got stuck with doing patrol today, eh?”

To my astonishment, their booted feet start moving away from our hiding spot towards the front door of the bakery. Oh, those twnety-two duits were well-spent, I think.

Now that they are distracted, I tilt my head sideways, silently telling Blondie to follow me. She carefully grabs our cupcakes --which somehow survived our quick dash under the table--and we sneak from under the table to the intersection down the main road.

I know we’re not in the clear; Gusto won’t be able to distract them for long. I scan the area for somewhere we can hide until the soldiers pass by. 

There!

On the corner of one of the smaller side streets, I see a small archway that will allow us to tuck away, out of sight from the guards. “This way.” I guide her through the throngs of people, hoping we don’t seem too suspicious. She follows me without hesitation and we step into the arch not a moment too soon.

“Here,” she says, handing me my cupcake.

The unmistakable sound of the soldiers’ boots booming off the cobblestone is approaching us. But, as I expected, they make a left turn towards the city center and away from us.

We did it. We managed to elude the guards.

I let out a sigh of relief and give Blondie a sincere smile. She grins back at me.

“Come on,” I say, stepping out of the shadows. “Let’s find some place to go eat these.”

We decide the safest place to devour out treats is back where we came, knowing the guards were unlikely to return to the bakery. I don’t even have a chance to sit down before Gusto comes out wearing a rather pleased look on his face.

“Do you have something you want to say to me?”

Look, I know he just helped us from escaping a potentially bad situation, but I find myself having trouble forming the words of thanks. Flynn Rider doesn’t need people to help him flee from the law.

Or, at least he didn’t. Not before yesterday.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

“What was that?” He holds his hand up to his ear. He is enjoying this far too much.

“You heard me.” 

He lets out a loud belly-laugh. I swear, if he hadn’t just helped us, I would have some choice words for him. Instead I roll my eyes. “Are you done yet?”

He nods and I feel myself relax. “Though I make no promises if they come back.” Gusto studies me for a second. “I don’t know what you did, Rider, but you’ve gotten them pretty upset.”

“It’s part of my charm.” I lean back in the chair and cross my arms.

This time it’s his time to roll his eyes. “You know, you didn’t have to go down this path. Your apprenticeship with Mr. Popper was all but certain.”

I notice Blondie watching our exchange with unconcealed interest. She already knows too much of my back story for my liking. 

I shrug. “This seems like the better option.”

Gusto looks pointedly at Blondie for a second. “Are you still sure about that?” 

I don’t have an answer for him. 

Finally, he turns to Blondie. “I apologize for my lack of manners, my dear. I’ll let you enjoy your dessert with your friend.” He walks back inside the bakery.

She’s about the open her mouth, not doubt full of questions about what Gusto just said when I cut her off. “No more back story. Let’s just enjoy the cupcake.”

Maybe she knows how Gusto’s comments bothered me because she doesn’t press the issue. Instead she starts carefully unwrapping the paper from around the bottom of the cake. “It looks delicious!” As if she is unsure about the icing, she carefully sticks her tongue out and tastes the sugary coating.

“It tastes even better!”

As if by magic, all gloom that threatened to overtake me by thoughts of my past fades away. If I had taken that apprenticeship then there is no way I would have ever stumbled onto Blondie’s tower. So, I have to say, I’m pretty happy with the decisions that I have made in my life so far.

“Yeah, Gusto is the best baker for a hundred miles.” I take a bite out of the spongy cake.

“Yum!” she squeals before taking a bite of her own cupcake.

Let me just tell you, Blondie is a  _very_  enthusiastic eater when it comes to sweets. I’m pretty sure I enjoyed watching her eat the cupcake as she did tasting it.

“Do you think he’ll give me the recipe? I’m a pretty good baker.”

Despite my improved mood, I’m not ready from anymore time with Gusto. “We’ll come back later.” Well, if later means never, anyway. 

“All right,” she agrees.

Together, we start walking again. We have covered most of the kingdom by now; there is only the east village left. The people are less dense here. Most of them are starting to congregate in the town’s center.

When we walk by the town’s library, I don’t miss Blondie’s lingering look.

“Wanna go inside?” I offer. 

She nods her head eagerly and pulls my hand, leading me to the large building. With a stumble and a huff, I enter into the library. Mr. Leser looks up from his reading to see who has interrupted his favorite pasttime.

“Eugene Fitzherbert,” he greets warmly. He takes off his glasses and studies me for a second. “It’s been a while, lad.”

I shrug. “I’ve been staying busy.” Stealing a priceless crown, running from guards, climbing up mysterious tower...becoming Corona’s most notorious thief takes up a lot of time.

“I see you brought a friend with you,” he gestures towards Blondie who is scanning the shelves with unabashed interest.

I nod as Blondie flashes a grin at the two of us.

He looks at me with a slight crease in his forehead. “I was going to leave for the day to prepare for this evening’s celebration.”

The disappointment on Rapunzel’s face is impossible to miss. “Would you mind if we stayed here for a while? I’ve never seen so many books in one place before!”

Mr. Leser glances at me. I give him my most sincere Eugene Fitzherbert look (which is nothing like the suave smolder of Flynn Rider, let me tell you. It’s more like a cross between a lost puppy and the sad look of a child who hasn’t had dessert in a week.) and say, “You can trust me.”

It’s true too. The kindly librarian is one of the very few people who will never be burglarized by Flynn Rider. After all, I owe my alter ego all to Mr. Leser. He is the man who introduced me to _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider_  so many years ago.

For a second or two, it seems as if he is going to say no. Finally, after looking at Blondie’s pleading look, he lets out a sigh. “Aye, the two of you can stay here. But,” he says, pointing a slightly crooked finger at me, “no snooping through my desk drawers.”

Oops. I guess that means he figured out what I was doing that last time I visited. I hold my hands up in innocence. “I promise. Your desk is safe.”

I turn back to Blondie who is already holding a half dozen books in her arms. I rush over to her and take several from her hands before she drops them on the ground. Mr. Leser might overlook my questionable lifestyle, but he can’t tolerate anything happening to his books.

She looks at me appreciatively before turning towards Mr. Leser. She holds her arm open and takes two steps, crushing him in a half-embrace. “Thank you!” she enthuses. 

He returns her embrace with a grin. I’m starting to wonder if anyone is impervious to Blondie’s charm. Mr. Leser releases him and faces me. “Quite a friend you have here, Eugene.” He wisely exits before I have a chance to stammer out some sort of response.

I watch him walk down the road as I set the books on the ground. Blondie takes a seat in the center of the room and grabs my wrist, pulling me next to her. She starts to fan out the books around the two of us, studying each cover carefully. “Where should I start?”

I look at the large assortment of book she has gathered. There are books about mathematics, reptilian anatomy--that figures, I think, amused--, astronomy and physics. Heavy reading for someone who has lived in a tower her whole life. I shrug as I glance at the booking, trying to figure out which one will be the least boring. My eyes land on the cover of the astronomy book. How bad could a book about stars be?

“Let’s try that one,” I say.

She reaches over and picks it up before setting it in her lap. “This is so exciting!”

I don’t say anything as she opens the book to the front page and starts reading out loud. She’s not even past the first page and I’m already in danger of slipping into a boredom coma. 

Oh, this is bad. Really bad. 

I force myself to not start drooling as I sit there, uninterested and indifferent. It was almost impossible, but somehow I manage not to drift off to sleep as Blondie continues to read. I won’t bore you with the details (for the concern of my well-being) but let’s just say that astronomy not only has the misfortune of having everything tied to Greek mythology, but mathematics as well. 

 _Oh Galileo_ , I think as I refrain from rubbing my eyes,  _you must have been real smooth with the ladies._

Unlike me, Blondie seems to soak up everything she is reading and enjoy it. Finally, when she finished the first chapter, I still her hands from turning to the next page by laying mine on top of them. “About we try something else? Something that doesn’t require intimate knowledge of mathematics.” I punctuate my plea with a smolder for good measure.

Maybe my good looks are starting to charm her (but, more than likely, she just wants to read something as “fun” as calculating the circumference of the moon) because she agrees to my request. Without hesitation, she picks up the book on reptile anatomy. 

I make a face. I already know too much about a certain chameleon's tongue, thank you very much. Fortunately, she seems content to skim through the pages before grabbing another book. What was she doing?

I must look as confused as I feel because she looks up at me and gives me a small grin. “I want to see them all!” 

I feel my stomach do a flip flop at the sight of her smile and I start to wonder if Gusto slipped something into my cupcake earlier. I watch as she goes from book to book. It doesn’t matter what topic she is reading, she is equally as excited about any topic. 

As she gets to the end of the pile (which has now been fanned out across the entire floor of the room), I get inspired by an idea. “About some geography?” For some reason, I want to be the one who shows her just how big the world is. I am her guide after all.

Her eyes light up and she claps her hands together. “OK!”

Honestly, I had no idea that it was possible to encapsulate that much excitement into one word.

I move to stand and Blondie is close on my heals. Apparently, she is really as excited as she sounds about the prospect of looking at these maps. “If I remember Mr. Leser’s filing system correctly, they should be over here,” I say, nodding to the shelves in the far corner of the room.

Blondie practically skips across the room. She approaches the shelves and starts looking at the titles. Unfortunately for her, she’s just too short to reach the highest shelf where the books are. I quickly make my way across the room before she tries to climb the shelves herself.

I reach up for the large book with the gold binding. I remember glancing at it the last time I was here (I may or may not have been using the detailed maps for nefarious purposes.) and I’m pretty sure Blondie would like the artistic aspect of the maps, especially seeing her creation earlier.

“What about the blue one up there?” she asks. She pushes herself up on her tiptoes.

The sight of her with her eyebrows pressed down in concentration combined with seeing her tongue peeking from between her lips causes my stomach to flutter again.

Time to get a grip, Rider.

But I can’t. Not when she looks like this. Not when she’s so close to me.

So, I do the only thing I can think to do. 

I start to move away.

Fate, however, seems to have other plans.

Suddenly, Rapunzel starts to lose her balance and falls towards me. One second, I am holding an old book, the next, I have an armful of Rapunzel.

I don’t know how it’s possible--maybe I should grab a book on physics--but time suddenly slows down and the world around me fades away.

There is nothing beyond the fact that Rapunzel is quite close to me. My one arm is solidly wrapped around her tiny waist. Her soft breath tickles the skin on my neck. Our chests are pressed together tightly enough to where I’m pretty sure I can feel her heart beating.

I let the book fall to the ground and bring my other hand to her hip. You know, to keep us from falling to the ground. Really. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she feels so good -- _too good_ \-- in my arms and I find myself unwilling to let her go. 

I lean my head forward and inhale. She smells like sunshine, flowers and happiness. And, for a blissful few seconds, I’m able to fully appreciate what it feels like to hold Rapunzel.

“Eugene.”

Have I mentioned how much I enjoy hearing my name--my real name--on her lips?

At the thought of her lips, my mind demands that I kiss her. She’s so close. So perfectly close. All I have to do is released my hold of her hip and tilt her head up just slightly. I pull my hand away from her and start to move it towards her cheek. I notice her big, green eyes widen and wonder if she knows what I’m thinking about doing.

“Eugene.” This time it’s a little more urgent.

 _Oh, don’t worry, Sweetheart, I won’t make you wait much longer._

I’m a breath away from framing her freckled face when she pulls back slightly. “You dropped the book.”

And, like that, time comes rushing back at its normal pace.

I push away from her. What am I doing? More importantly, what was I thinking? Sunshine and happiness? Honestly, Eugene Fitzherbert can’t be more of a sap if I tried. 

I stammer out some kind of apology as I bend down to retrieve the book. When I sneak a glance at Rapunzel, I’m pleased to notice she seems a bit flustered herself.

Maybe she’s not immune to the Flynn Rider charm after all.

No, I immediately correct myself, she’s not immune to the softie otherwise known as Eugene.

As I straighten, Rapunzel reaches for my free hand and drags me to our original position. She takes the book from my fingers as I lower myself to the ground. Before she opens it, she turns to me and does something completely unexpected.

She kisses me on the cheek.

Her lips are soft and warm and gone before I have a chance to really enjoy the sensation. I’d be willing to bet a half a dozen crowns that I have that same idiotic smile on my face that the owner of the Snuggly Duckling had on his face yesterday when Rapunzel gave him a peck on his cheek.

“What’s that for?” I hope my voice doesn’t sound as breathless as I think it sounds.

She gives me a grateful smile. “To thank you for keeping me from falling.” She shrugs slightly and suddenly seems embarrassed. The smile is gone and replaced with a grimace. “Mother says that I’m clumsy.”

I think back to the previous twenty-four hours. Rapunzel had managed to deftly escape the royal guard, perform quite the song and dance number and help me claw our way out of our watery grave. That didn’t seem particularly clumsy to me. “I don’t think you’re clumsy, Blondie,” I start without thinking, “But, if you do fall, I’ll always be there to catch you.” 

My eyes widen --and she does hers-- at my statement. 

I panic. And stutter. “Um, you know, until tomorrow, when, er, I go back to, um, running from Max. And the rest of the the royal guard.”

It’s impossible to miss the disappointment in her eyes, but she quickly pushes it away. She smiles a little too brightly. “So, you were going to show me some maps?”

I am relieved by her question. Thinking about running from the guards is bad enough. Thinking about running from the guards without Rapunzel is much, much worse. “Um, yeah.”

I open the book and start showing Rapunzel the drawings inside the book. Any awkwardness is eradicated by Rapunzel’s unbridled enthusiasm at the maps I show her. When I turn the page, a map of the entire world is displayed. 

She lets out a gasp and grabs my forearm. “The world is so big!” She releases her hold of my arm and trails her finger along the page. “Have you been to all of these places?”

I let out a laugh. If she only knew how I felt about sea travel. “No. I pretty much stay in the Corona area.” I point the kingdom’s position on the map. “Though I have ventured to Trist a couple of times.”

She stares at the map for several seconds before proclaiming, “I want to see it all!”

Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. She turns to the next page and gushes about the next map. It goes in the same pattern for the rest of the book. When she’s finished looking at the last page, she looks around the library, sheepish. “I didn’t realize I had gotten so many books.”

“Don’t worry, Blondie,” I say with a wink, “I’ll help you put them away.”

It takes the better part of ten minutes, but we finally have the library looking like its former self. She looks out the window and her eyes widen. “Eugene, it’s almost evening!”

Which means it’s almost time for the lantern show. I give her a smile as I hold the door open for her. “Come on. Let’s go find your frog.”

Her face brightens at the mention of the frog as I realize that this has probably been the longest time they have been separated since he found her tower in the forest. And to think, he has had to be stuck with Max all day long. Fate is a cruel mistress sometimes.

There are even more people on the street now that some of the shops are starting to close for the day. We find Pascal and Max walking through the west gates where I notice Max eying the trough of water with a gleam in his eye.

Rapunzel notices him too because she rushes to his side. “Does somebody need a drink because they are all thirsty from standing in the hot sun all day?”

He nods as if he has been completely incapable of getting water himself. Pathetic, really.

She turns to Pascal. “Do you want a drink?”

He shakes his head.

“He can stay with me,” I offer.

I get three looks of disbelief for my attempt at kindness. “Or not.”

Alright, I’ll be honest. My reasoning for wanting Pascal is not entirely selfless; ever since Rapunzel brought up her mother during lunch, I want to know more about the woman who has ingrained the idea that living in a ninety foot tower is a healthy lifestyle. 

Pascal exchanges a look with Rapunzel and finally shrugs. I guess that means I’ve got his approval.

I hold out my hand like I’ve seen Rapunzel do and let him climb on it. As soon as his scaly feet touch the palm of my hand I have to refrain from the impulse to flick him off my hand. No one ever told me it was going to be so ticklish.

Quickly, I place him on window edging in front of me and wave on Rapunzel and Maximus. When they are out of earshot, I tilt my head towards the chameleon. “So, Blondie told me you guys aren’t going back to the tower after today.”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief. Well, I guess that means he isn’t going to miss his old bachelor pad. 

“She says I can come with you two.”

He doesn’t seem as happy about that news. He crosses his tiny arms and scowls slightly.

“Oh come on! I’m not  _that_  bad...”

He points at Max with his tail and chirps. 

“Yeah, well, Max’s opinion of me doesn’t count. He’s still mad at the fact that he can’t drag me to the royal guards until tomorrow.” I look at Rapunzel who is standing by the horse, scratching his back. I know I don’t have much time to get my answers so I ask, “What’s the story with her mother anyway?

Pascal unleashes a chirping tirade, emphasized by frowns, scowls and dirty looks. He points to Rapunzel and grins, then flicks his tail behind us where their tower is and shakes his head. 

Ok, so obviously Rapunzel hasn’t been raised by mother of the year material.

Our conversation is cut short by the reappearance of Rapunzel and Max. She looks at Pascal. “Did Eugene tell you the news?”

Pascal gives her an approving nod.

Rapunzel reaches for him and places him on her shoulder. He touches her hair then chirps questioningly.

Her smile falters slightly. “I don’t know what happen to her, Pascal,” she says quietly.

“With who? Your mother?” I ask, butting into a conversation that I should really not be a part of.

Rapunzel nods. “It’s just that if I don’t sing to Mother every few days, she gets very tired. Her hair starts to go gray and her skin begins to get wrinkled.” 

Now, I’ve been on the run from the law for so long that I have become intimately acquainted with exhaustion, but my hair has never changed colors. I suspect there is something else going on, but without proof, there’s no reason to upset Rapunzel more. 

She draws an unsure breath. “I’m sure she’ll be alright.”

I sneak a glance at Pascal who shrugs.

All right, enough maudlin thinking. We manged to go almost a whole day without any tears and I don’t want to buck the trend now. “Let’s get moving,” I say as I start walking back to the main part of town.

“So, all of this is for the lost princess?”

I look around at all of the flags and the vendors selling paper lanterns and nod. “Yup.”

She casts a sideways glance at me. “How long has it been since she went missing?” She asks the question softly as if the king and queen could hear her speaking.

“I think I was five.” Or six. Or maybe even eight. It’s sort of hard to keep track of your birthday when the orphanage headmaster--Mr. Knitler--doesn’t believe in celebrating the fact that a kid has managed not to get adopted within a year’s time. “The queen almost died when she was pregnant with the princess. Somehow, she got better and she and the baby were fine. The king and queen brought out their miracle child and showed their little bundle of joy to the masses. The whole kingdom celebrated.”

Even though I was rather young, I can still remember the laughter (both sober and drunken) of the villagers as they paraded in the streets, rejoicing over the recent events. The queen was alive! Their beautiful baby girl was born! There had been dancing and merriment until the sun had gone down.

She leans closer to me and whispers, “How did...how did the princess get...lost?”

I face her and notice how entranced she is by the story. It’s easy for me to forget how much she doesn’t know about current events since she seems more than capable to hold her own. “That same night after the celebration, she was kidnapped.”

Rapunzel gasps and I swear I see tears forming in her eyes. “Who would do such a thing to an innocent baby?” she demands.

I shrug. Rumors about the mysterious kidnapper had swirled around the kingdom since the day the baby was taken. “Some people think it was enemies from the north. Others say it was Fate herself that took the princess in retaliation for the queen avoiding death.”

“That’s horrible! Her parents must be heartbroken.”

I guess they are. Honestly, as an orphan the idea of my parents missing me seems absurd. 

She looks around and the decorations, the smiles and the general feeling of joy that permeates the kingdom. “If they are so sad, then why does everyone look so happy?”

“That decree came from the royal family themselves,” I explain as we turn the corner. “The kingdom mourned for their lost princess for a long time, but it was decided by the king and queen that the princess’ birthday would be a day of hope. That maybe one day she will return to Corona.”

She considers this for a second. “I’m sure she will. If I can see the lanterns from my tower then she will be able to see them wherever she is.” She fidgets slightly. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

Forty-eight hours ago, I wasn’t a believer in happy endings. But after everything that has happened to me since I met Rapunzel--a frog that practically talks, magical hair that can heal wounds instantly and realizing the importance of dreams, even to pub thugs--I’m starting to think that anything is possible. 

Before I can reply, she grabs my arm in excitement. “If she does come back, we could come for the celebration!”

A warm feeling starts to spread in my chest. She’s already planning out future together. Really, I should feel more panicked than I do, but the only thought that runs through my mind is that Rapunzel Fitzherbert is going to be a real mouthful for people to say.

Er, I did not just think that. 

Thankfully, I am distracted by my thoughts when I see a cart full of breads and cheeses. I nod in its direction. “Got a preference for dinner, Rapunzel?”

She stops walking in the middle of the path and pins me with a Look. “What did you say?”

Maybe asking for her opinion is offensive. I’ve never dealt with a woman who has been locked in a tower her whole life. “I asked if you had a preference for dinner.” I raise my eyebrow to further illustrate my confusion.

She crosses her arms and gives me a smirk. “You called me Rapunzel.”

I did? I replay the question in my mind. I did. Oops. I’m not going to confess it was a slip of the tongue though. “Well, that’s your name, isn’t it?”

She drops her arms. “Yes, it is,” she says, smiling. “I’m just surprised you remembered it.”

Honestly, I am too. After the second wallop to my head, I’m surprised I was able to walk straight, let alone recall her name. I guess she had my interest before I realized it. 

Rapunzel smiles kindly. “I like hearing you same my name. It sounds...nice.”

“Well, er, I’m glad that you like it.” I nod towards the growing line. “I, um, should really get something for us.” I hop into line before the conversation starts going in a direction that neither of us are ready for. 

A few seconds later, Rapunzel moves away from me. Apparently the enormous mural of the the royal family has caught her attention. I can still remember the day it was revealed to the kingdom ten years after the princess had been taken. Some of the villagers had left flowers at the base of the mural and it had become a tradition since.

When I finally make my way to the front of the line, I get two servings of bread and cheese. I turn around to where Rapunzel was last standing, but she’s not there. Before I can wonder where she wandered off to, I see her in the middle of the cobblestone sun, dancing happily to the music played by the performers. It doesn’t take long for her to pull in a group of people to join her in her dance.

I vaguely register Max and Pascal coming up to me because most of my attention is on Rapunzel. Her smile is contagious; everyone who is dancing with her shares her grin. 

For a few minutes, I’m able to watch her dance amongst the people. She spins around and gets handed off to another dance partner. That’s when she looks at me and waves me over with her free hand.

I shake my head and hold out my hand to stop her line of thinking. Singing in the pub yesterday was bad enough. She is certainly not going to have me go out there and dance in front of the masses.

Unfortunately for me, Max has other ideas. The next thing I know, that equestrian beast shoves me forward in the crowd. The food goes flying out of my hands and lands on the ground with a plop. 

Doesn’t he realize how much work it took to “earn” the coins that paid of the meal in the first place?

I turn to glower at him. Both he and Pascal are yukking it up. Oh, tee hee. Really funny. Let’s just see how many apples I get you for dinner tonight, buddy.

Despite my annoyance, it doesn’t take long for me to find my rhythm--not that the group of dancing people will let me get away with anything less. If I don’t keep up with them, I’m going to end of trampled. I do my best to spot Rapunzel in the group, but everyone is moving so fast, I can hardly get a glimpse of her blonde hair.

The music continues to get a bit louder and there is a lot of spinning and skipping and blurred faces around me. It sort of reminds me of my last pre-Blondie trip to the Snuggly Duckling. After several minutes of dancing in the midst of this barely controlled chaos, I am swirled in Rapunzel’s direction.

Finally.

She flashes me a brilliant smile and I give her a hopeful one of my own. I hold out my hand for her to take, but Lady Luck isn’t on my side. Just as our fingers are about to touch, we get whisked away in opposite directions.

Rapunzel shoots me a sympathetic look before she twirls away from me. I do my best to tap down the aggravation of not having an armful of Rapunzel, but it’s not working.

The dance continues a little while longer. I watch Rapunzel along with several of the other dancers leap in the air. Did they choreograph this dance when I was standing in line or something?

The music’s temp starts to pick up and I have a feeling the end of the dance is approaching. I manage to find Rapunzel--she’s got her eyes closed as she spins around--and I do what it takes to make sure I’m going to end up her dance partner before the song ends.

She still has her eyes closed when she comes dancing in my direction. I watch her open them but her momentum is too great, she’s going to end up rather close to me.

Not that I mind.

Before I know it, I have my arms full of Rapunzel and time does that strange thing and slows down again. I am acutely aware just how close Rapunzel’s body is pressed against mine. Her freckled cheeks are flushed slightly, her green eyes are wide and searching my brown ones. I give a little huff and she lets out a small gasp of her own.

If I wasn’t so set on giving her our first kiss on the boat --hey, a man’s gotta have goals-- I would kiss her soundly right now, villagers or no.

“To the boats!”

The loud voice breaks our connection. With an embarrassed look, Rapunzel steps back as I let her go. If I’m not mistaken, I think she’s disappointed at the loss of contact.

“Come on,” I say, “I’ve got a surprise for you.” She and I walk a little closer than we have been all day. We make our way to where Max and Pascal are waiting. 

Before we can go to the boat that is waiting for us, there is something I need to do for that horse. Sure he and I barely tolerate each other, but he did keep his word to Rapunzel, despite his oath to the guard. That kind of behavior deserves some kind of reward, I figure. 

I look at Max. “Could you take Rapunzel to the docks for me?”

I don’t miss Pascal’s jaw dropping at the use of her proper name.

Max, however, looks at me suspiciously. I guess we’re still working on the trust issue. “I’ll be back,” I reply, holding up my hands in innocence, “I promise.”

Rapunzel, my heroine, comes to my aid. She reaches up and scratches under his chin. “He’ll be back, Maximus. It’s almost time for the lanterns!”

With a huff and a snort, the horse relents. I don’t even bother looking back because I know I don’t have much time to do what I have planned. Most of the shopkeepers have closed for the celebration, but I manage to find a singular woman who is about the close for the night. 

“Hey,” I call out, slightly winded. “You’ve got any apples left?”

“I sure do.” She holds up a bag filled to the brim. Perfect for Max.

I drop the coins in her hand and snag the bag. It isn’t until I’ve walked several feet that I realized that I haven’t stolen anything the entire day. I can’t remember the last time that has happened voluntarily. I resist the urge to pocket something to prove to myself that Flynn Rider hasn’t gone anywhere, but I find my drive oddly lacking.

As I sling the bag over my shoulder, I think about Rapunzel and how I enjoyed spending the day with her much more than I ever expected to. I’m pretty sure these feelings goes beyond being smitten by a beautiful woman.

The problem is, I don’t know what to do with these emotions. Act on them? It’s not fair to pull Rapunzel into a life on the lam. Though she is out of her tower, she would be no less imprisoned if she were to follow me. No, I would have to come up with another idea.

I’m still trying to figure out a solution when I finally approach the docks. Rapunzel and our animals companions are waiting for me by the only boat tied to the side. I hide my gift to Max behind my back and make my way to where they are waiting.

While Rapunzel is busy talking to Max --”I told you Eugene would come back!”--I sneak the bag of apples in the boat. With one foot on the dock and the other in the boat, I hold my hand for Rapunzel to take. She grasps mine and carefully steps inside. Her eyes widen as the boat rocks slightly.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you,” I assure her with a soft smile.

She gives me a reassuring look and takes a seat. As I’m about to step inside, I feel the strangest sensation run up my leg. I look down and see Pascal scurrying up my body. I guess that means he’s going to act as our chaperon for the evening. I’m surprised to find that I really don’t mind. He’s probably looking forward to the lanterns as much as Rapunzel.

I step completely onto the boat. Under my seat, I can see the edges of the paper lanterns sticking out. So, Cupid’s helper did stay true to his word. I grab the oar and push the boat away from the dock.

Max, for his part, looks rather pitiful standing there all by himself. “Hey Max!” I call out.

He cocks his head to the side inquisitively. 

With a one-handed heave, I toss the bag of apples onto the dock right at his feet. 

He narrows his eyes at me. Hasn’t he ever heard of the saying “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”? Sheesh. You would think he’s ungrateful or something.

“What? I bought them.”

This appeases him. He starts munching on the fruit immediately. I wait two heartbeats before adding a cryptic, “Most of them.” That will teach him to wake me up again, I think smugly.

I turn back to Rapunzel who is looking around, trying to understand what I have planned for the rest of the evening. “Where are we going?”

“Well, best day of your life...” I hold out my hand for Pascal to climb on it. I put him on the back of the boat where he won’t be in danger of getting crushed by my manly rowing. “I figure you should have a decent seat.”

She’s pretty quiet as I continue to row the boat away from the others. I would have thought by now she would have been impressed with the view of the enormous boats that are floating around us. As we float further out,I have to admit even though I have lived in Corona my entire life, the kingdom and its palace look amazing.

I finally steer the boat to the perfect position for viewing the lanterns when they go on their flight. From here, Rapunzel and I will be able to see every light that floats in the sky. We lean on the edge of the boat, looking at the silhouette of Corona.

I’m about to ask her what she thinks of the view when, to my surprise, Rapunzel lets out a sad sigh. This isn’t the reaction I am going for. “You ok?”

If I was surprised by her initial reaction, I am flabbergasted by her next words. “I’m terrified.”

I would understand if she had said nervous, excited or exhausted (especially after the past two days that we had), but terrified? 

“Why?” I can’t help but to ask.

She doesn’t even turn in my direction. She keeps her eyes fixated on the kingdom before us. “I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,  _dreaming_  about what it might feel like when those lights rise in the sky. What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be.” 

“And what if it is?” Rapunzel asked, finally facing me. “What do I do then?”

“Well, that’s the good part, I guess. You get to find a new dream.” I look at her meaningfully, wondering if she picks up on my double meaning.

She gives me a small smile and I’m not sure she understands what I’m trying to say without actually saying the words. For the first time in my adult life, I am wanting to walk away from that fake reputation I have established as Flynn Rider and embrace the man that I have always been. And I want Rapunzel to be part of that future.

I turn away from her, not knowing if I’m disappointed or relieved that she didn’t instantly comprehend what I meant. There will be time for heartfelt confessions later, I tell myself. Right now, it’s Rapunzel’s time to live out her dream.

We look out at the nighttime sky expectantly. She dips a finger into the inky water. “How much longer until we can see the lights?” she wonders.

I scan the sky, but it is lantern-free at the moment. “It shouldn’t be much longer. Once the king and queen release the first lantern, everyone else in the kingdom follows,” I explain.

“I hope that the princess can see the lights tonight wherever she is,” Rapunzel says softly. “After all, this is all for her.”

And you, I add silently. Sure the tradition may have started because of what happened to the lost princess, but somewhere along the line Rapunzel’s life became intertwined with these lanterns.

She starts to fidget, eager to see the lights. Subconsciously, she plucks a flower from her hair but before she can tug it out of place, her hair gets caught in it. 

“Here,” I say, stilling her hand. I carefully pull the flower out of its position and hand it to her. 

She smiles appreciatively as she takes it. Slowly, thoughtfully, she puts in on the surface of the water as if she is creating another masterpiece. 

Without prompting, I take several more flowers out of her hair and put them in my palm for Rapunzel to use. 

“Thank you,” she says earnestly before looking at the selection set before her. She chooses a purple flower and lets it float next to the orange one.

This continues for the next five minutes. I have to admit my hand is getting tired holding out these flowers for Rapunzel, but I really don’t mind. She already seems more relaxed, calming her nerves by tapping in to her creativity.

I’m too busy looking at Rapunzel (all right, I’m gazing, happy now?) to notice the lantern that starts to float in the sky so when she suddenly jumps and and nearly capsizes the boat, I am totally unprepared. I go flying back in a ridiculous manner, doing what I can to keep the boat from flipping over.

When I mange to pull myself up into a sitting position, I look at Pascal who is holding on to the boat for dear life. “You ok?”

He looks a little more green than normal, but he gives me a nod. 

I turn back to Rapunzel who is holding onto the front of the boat, watching the lights fly in the sky with such intent interest, I doubt she knows that we are still here. She lets out of soft sigh and I just when I think I have control of my feeling concerning Rapunzel, I feel a burst of something --some would call it love-- run through me.

The lanterns are starting to float in our direction and even I have to admit, their reflection bouncing of the water is quite a sight. I really knew what I was doing when I sought the boat this morning. 

I give Pascal a sideways glance and notice that even he’s getting rather teary-eyed.

While Rapunzel is busy gazing at the lanterns in the sky, I get our own pair of lanterns ready. I carefully use the long match that was next to them and light it using the lamp at the end of the boat. With my free hand, I put my fingers to my lips, hoping Pascal can keep a secret.

His chest puffs out and he gives a salute. It’s nice to know at least one animal is on my side.

I sit back down and light one lantern, catching it behind my legs as I light the other. Rapunzel must notice all of the movement because she turns from the show in the sky to me.

I hold the lanterns up with a hopeful smile.

With one of her own, she practically dances across the boat and sits right before me. “I have something for you too.” She reaches behind her and pulls out my satchel. Where in the world did she get that? “I should have given it to you before but I was just scared. And the thing is, I’m not scared anymore. You know what I mean?”

I know exactly what she means, but I decide to not confess my overflow of emotions. I shift one lantern to my left hand and push down the satchel with my right. I don’t need that anymore. “I’m starting to.”

Rapunzel grins broadly.

Together, we release the lanterns into the sea of lights above us. I watch as they dance and spin in the air, somehow managing to stay together despite the thousands of lights that are in the sky. I lose track of them as they continue to float in the sky and turn back to Rapunzel. She starts pointing to the side of the boat excitedly.

One of the lanterns --the lost princess’s lantern if I’m not mistaken-- is floating down to the water’s surface. She leans forward and taps the bottom of it, sending it sailing in the air.

That’s it. I can’t wait any longer. I take her hands in my own and let her know how I feel.

I really don’t want to get into the details, but I’ll just say there might have been some singing involved.

As we move closer together, I know this is the perfect time for out first kiss, a symbol of the birth of my new dream with Rapunzel.

I wish I would say that our lips met tenderly and I was able to give Rapunzel a birthday present that she would have never forgotten, but that’s not the way it happened at all.

I’d like to get into all of the details of what happened next, including my legendary acts of heroism, but that’s a different story: the story of how I died.


End file.
